The Black Heiress
by untied.shoelace
Summary: After the War, Hermione thought that she could finally enjoy a peaceful life. But the appearance of an heiress to the Black family threatened the peaceful life she imagined. Not only that, being forced to spend too much time with Draco in Hogwarts added to her overflowing stress. A Dramione and Ginny/Daphne/OC story.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter world and its characters, and I certainly am not profiting from this aside from personal satisfaction. Many thanks to J.K. Rowling for sharing her magical world which fueled my imagination.**_

 _ **Note: While I do try to keep the story as Canon as possible, due to the plotting I have in mind, naturally there are many areas that diverge from Canon. Please don't Crucio me for that. I will try my best to update on a weekly basis, aiming for the weekends. This is my first time writing a fanfiction, and I hope you enjoy this story.**_

* * *

 **Chapter One**

Hermione Granger was exhausted. Exhausted, but relieved. The days after the Battle of Hogwarts were a blur to her. Many parents requested their children to be buried in their respective homes instead of at Hogwarts, to be closer to their families. There were a few, like Tonks and Remus, who were buried at Hogwarts. Hermione thought it was rather sweet, for she knew Hogwarts was one of the few places where Remus felt truly happy.

Voldemort and his followers, however, were not given permission to be buried at Hogwarts. Those claimed by their families were buried at their family homes, and those who were unclaimed were buried at a small graveyard in the high-security British wizarding prison, Azkaban. Harry had voiced his concerns that future Death Eater-wannabes would try to resurrect Voldemort by using his bones. Kingsley decided that the Azkaban grave would serve to prevent that. Furthermore, those buried in Azkaban, including Voldemort, would be placed in one single unmarked mass grave, to confuse a would-be grave robber in the event that someone managed to break into Azkaban. The public was not provided information on Voldemort's burial details, and the only people who had full details were Kingley, the Trio, and two Unspeakables. Hermione witnessed this burial and was intrigued by the ritual the Unspeakables conducted to obscure and hide the grave.

Hermione, alongside with Harry and Ron, attended each and every funeral of the Defenders of Hogwarts. She wept when they lowered Tonks' and Remus' cold bodies, devastated that Teddy would grow up not knowing his wonderful parents; she cried when Colin's casket was closed, feeling survivor's guilt and blaming herself for not ensuring no underage student joined the battle; she sobbed when Harry laid a bouquet of lilies on Snape's fresh grave, admiring the former Headmaster's courage and strength. She shed tears for all those funerals and was thankful both Harry and Ron were there for her to lean on. She thanked the sacrifice of the Defenders, and silently vowed to tear down the divisive and ignorant blood supremacy beliefs which allowed all these to happen.

The last funeral she attended was Fred's. With the rest of the Weasley clan, Harry, and many Order as well as DA members, they buried Fred on a hill under a tree at The Burrows. George requested that, knowing Fred would not want tears to be shed on his funeral, they celebrated his life instead. True to Weasley fashion, Molly whipped up a delicious feast full of Fred's favourite foods. George brought out some of the prototype jokes he and Fred were working on, and showed them around. They also had a mini Quidditch match, and before guests left, they toasted Firewhiskey (fortified by the twins' potion) to Fred around his grave. The strengthened Firewhiskey immediately hit Hermione in the head and she had to be helped by Ginny to the bed.

Hermione was rather glad the whole funeral marathon ended in a bittersweet celebration. She did not think she had anymore tears left to be shed. Upon reaching the bed in the room she shared with the youngest Weasley, Hermione entered the Dream Land.

The few weeks following Fred's funeral saw Hermione resting and recovering. It was strange for her - after months of constantly on the move filled with adrenaline and anxiety, having nothing much to do on her hands left her rather…confused. Not that she was complaining. Being able to sleep without the ever-present threat of Death Eater attacks was a welcomed change. She was also glad to have options for her meals, instead of only eating mushroom soup. Whenever Molly made mushroom soup, the Trio refused to touch the offending dish. Molly stopped making mushroom soup after the third time the Trio refused it. While feeling rather guilty, Hermione could not bear to eat the dish even for politeness' sake.

During the two weeks between Fred's funeral and Kingsley's appearance, Hermione lazed around with Harry, Ron, and Ginny. They would stroll around The Burrows area, take a picnic at the creek not far from The Burrows, and practice Quidditch - Hermione sat with her books, of course, while the other three zoomed around on their brooms. They would talk about anything and everything except the War and those who died. Hermione knew what they were doing were not healthy for them. They needed to talk about recent events and grieve properly. After Fred's funeral, none of them cried or showed a sad face. Hermione had no idea how any of them actually felt, and whether they were coping or not. She herself was unwilling to discuss the matter and face her nightmares. She was glad to finally be safe, and she would not do anything to jeopardize that cocoon of bliss she found. However, she did notice that none of them were willing to spend time alone with the opposite gender. As in, Ginny and Harry avoided being in a situation all by themselves, as with Hermione and Ron. Hermione had no idea what that meant.

One night, after a particularly filling dinner, Hermione went to bed immediately. Her mother would always tell her off for sleeping right after a meal, claiming that it would invite nightmares. Hermione usually would do as what was told, but that particular night, she felt she should take a break from it. So she bid goodnight to everyone after helping Molly with the dishes, and descended on her bed. Ginny was playing chess with Ron, and Harry watched their game. They mumbled her a 'good night', not really paying attention to her. Hermione smiled at the sight, knowing that they deserved to play chess without any cares in the world.

Upon entering Dream Land, Hermione naturally had a nightmare. She, after all, disobeyed her mother. She found herself on the ground on Malfoy Manor, screaming her heart out as while relieving Bellatrix torturing her, and, to her horror, saw her unconscious parents dragged in by Greyback.

"Well, well, little Muddy, you've never seen a flea-ridden mutt having a meal, have you?" Bellatrix cackled, enjoying the look of terror on Hermione's eyes.

Fenrir Greyback snarled at Bellatrix, to which the mad witch casually casted a spell in retaliation. While it did not much damage to the werewolf, Greyback turned away from Bellatrix and focused on the unconscious muggles. Hermione found herself unable to move or say anything. Her eyes were transfixed at the motionless figures of her parents. She was sure that the Death Eaters could not find her parents. How did they do it? Were there many Voldemort sympathisers in Australia?

Bellatrix traced the carved "mudblood" lovingly with the tip of her fingers, smearing the droplets of blood across Hermione's injured arm.

"Watch the mutt, Muddy. I put a show for you. Do be polite," the insane Death Eater whispered in Hermione's ear so softly it was bordering on tenderness. Almost.

Hermione shivered involuntarily, willing herself to wake up. She did not want to watch her parents being eaten by Greyback. But her body betrayed her. She did not wake up, and she was still in Malfoy Manor. Her eyes went wide when the werewolf started to eat her father's left hand hungrily. Hermione started to forget that it was just a dream. A nightmare.

"Muddykins, you like learning, don't you? Watch and learn then. The mutt here loves to eat his meals starting from their hands, then their legs, and then moving upwards. Do you know why?" Bellatrix did not give her time to answer. "Because he wants his meals to wake up moments before their eventual deaths and see that they can't run away or do anything anymore. By then, their hearts would be pumping madly, and terror envelopes their whole being. According to this fleabag, natural terror adds delightfulness to the taste."

While Bellatrix "imparted" her knowledge on Hermione, tears started to fall from the latter's eyes. A part of her was mildly surprised that she had tears left after all those funerals. Hermione then remembered it was not real, that it was just a nightmare. A construction by her unconscious, and she internally swore at her unconscious to even dare dreaming such things. She doubled her efforts to wake up and escape from this nightmare. Well, who would want to stay in a dream and watch one's own parents slowly eaten to death by a werewolf?

This time, Hermione managed to wake up, just as her father stirred in her nightmare. She was thankful to leave that part of her mind and returned to the safe world where Voldemort had died. Even though she knew she was waking up from a dream, her body moved automatically and she found herself pointing her wand at Ginny, who was snoring softly across the room. Hermione took several deep breaths and forced herself to calm down. She scanned the room and, finding no malicious beings lurking in the corner, she set her wand aside and exhaled.

She had been sleeping without nightmares since the Battle. Why did it come now? Hermione refused to think that her mental health was severely affected by the whole war. She felt that she knew herself best and that she just needs time to rest and recover. After all, she alongside with Harry and Ron had been dealing with Voldemort-related horrors since they were eleven and they grew up just fine.

She rose from the bed gently, trying not to wake up her roommate, and walked to the kitchen. She descended the stairs with an agility honed from years of sneaking around Hogwarts with Harry and Ron as well as staying in The Burrow long enough to know which part of the stairs creaked, and which part provided safe havens. Hermione briefly considered of making robbery her professional career. With experience in sneaking, hiding, breaking and entering, as well as escaping from various life-threatening situations, she would be guaranteed a spot amongst elite robbers. Unfortunately, she dismissed the idea, and Hermione Granger did not go down in history as the Most Wanted Robber of all time.

She was surprised to find Harry making tea in the kitchen.

"Are you alright, Harry?" she asked softly.

Harry, a little startled, turned and his hand flew to his pocket. Realizing it was only Hermione, he relaxed and did not pull out his wand.

"I just can't sleep, 'Mione," he smiled at her. "Want some tea?"

Hermione nodded.

"I thought you went to bed early," Harry stated. He turned to grab another mug and made tea for Hermione.

"Nightmare," Hermione answered simply.

Harry took both mugs and indicated to Hermione to follow him. He led her to the couch and they sat next to each other. Hermione thanked Harry and sipped at her tea. The warmth trickled to her stomach and she felt better. For a moment, both of them were silent and decided to just enjoy their tea.

"What's the dream about?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.

Hermione set her mug on the coffee table and rested her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes. They were all safe, and not on the run anymore.

"Bellatrix," she whispered.

Harry was quiet and took her hand. He gently massaged her fingers, knowing it would help her relax.

"She is gone, 'Mione," he said softly. "She can't harm you anymore. She can't harm anyone else anymore."

Hermione just nodded.

They sat like that in silence until they fell asleep.

* * *

"What do you think you're doing?"

Hermione woke up with a start. Ron was yelling at her, standing in front of her with a face as red as his hair.

"Huh?" she did not understand why Ron was upset.

"I said, what in Merlin's name do you think you're doing? What's going on?" Ron yelled again.

Next to her, Harry was stirring.

"What's wrong, Ron?" Harry mumbled sleepily.

"What's wrong? WHAT'S WRONG? I am the one who should be asking you that. I can't believe this!"

With that, Ron stomped out of the house and slammed the door. Molly, who was coming to see the commotion, yelled her disapproval at the disappearing Ron. She then turned to the two confused youths.

"Harry, Hermione, are you alright? Why was Ron yelling?"

"I'm not sure, Mrs. Weasley, we were woken up by his yelling," Harry answered truthfully.

"I bet he's just being his usual moronic self," commented Ginny, who had appeared.

"Ginny! Don't call your brother moronic," admonished Molly.

Ginny just shrugged and walked off to the kitchen.

"I'm pretty sure we'll find out sooner or later what upsets him. But for the time being, you both need to have breakfast and get ready. Kingsley is coming soon," Molly told a surprised Harry and Hermione.

"Why? Did something wrong happened with the trial?" Hermione was worried, remembering her dreams the previous night.

Kingsley, as the interim Minister of Magic, decided to have a swift and closed trial for the captured Death Eaters. He did not want to give them a chance to break out of Azkaban or find loopholes that would enable their escape from justice. He wanted to avoid the mistakes of the past, where claiming to be _imperiused_ was all it took to get them off the hook. The trial was underway and no details were allowed to be leaked to the press until all was wrapped up. Hermione would prefer the trial to be opened for all to see, but she realized the wisdom in his decision. The Trio gave their statements immediately after the Battle, and an Auror took copies of their relevant memories. Harry made Kingsley promised him to clear Snape's name and not condemn the Malfoys courtesy of Narcissa's actions that led to Voldemort's demise.

Molly shook her head.

"No, dear. It has nothing to do with the trial. He has good news. Do get ready."

Molly went off to the kitchen to prevent her daughter from finishing all the food. She felt that the Trio needed to be fed a truckload of food daily to make up for the constant hunger they went through when they were on the run. Having Ginny reduce available food would not serve the purpose. Fortunately, when both Harry and Hermione were back, food was still plentiful. However, a sullen Ron was eating in a corner, ignoring everybody.

Hermione was sure Ron was mad at her and Harry, but she had no idea what would upset him so. Was Ron mad at her for sleeping early instead of watching them play chess? She was sure she did not wake him up when she went downstairs after her nightmare. Times like this reminded Hermione why she sometimes wished she was placed in Ravenclaw. That would guarantee her not knowing Ron and having to deal with his unbelievable temper, although that would also mean she would not have friendship with Harry and the rest of the Weasleys.

 _At least one of us has not changed even though we went through hell_ , she thought to herself darkly.

"What do you guys reckon of Kingsley's coming?" Ginny asked.

Harry, his mouth full of bacon, shrugged. He swallowed and said, "Since it is supposed to be good news, and nothing to do with the trial, it could be anything."

"Maybe the Death Eaters did us all a favour and dropped dead," Ron speculated.

"That is still connected to the trial, Ron," Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I wasn't talking to you," Ron replied aggressively.

"Ron!"

Molly, Harry, Hermione and Ginny stared at Ron, who looked away and grumbled something that sounded like "traitor".

"What did you say?" Ginny could not believe what she heard.

Ron refused to answer and instead concentrated on his breakfast.

Before anyone else could press the matter further, there was a knock on the door.

"That must be Kingsley. Stay here, children. You need your breakfast."

Molly went to get the door in a hurry, leaving the teenagers to eat in an uncomfortable silence. Moments later, Molly returned with two guests.

"Kingsley! Professor! What are you doing here?" Hermione was delighted to see the Minister of Magic and the Headmistress of Hogwarts.

Kingsley laughed.

"We have some news for all of you. But first, how have you all been?" McGonagall smiled at them.

"We've been fine, Professor. We're recovering," Harry answered for all of them.

"I'm glad to hear that. Now, we are both here on business. I as the interim Minister of Magic and Headmistress McGonagall here representing Hogwarts," Kingsley said.

Hearing that, the four teens straightened and looked at Kingsley and McGonagall with rapt attention.

"Harry, Hermione, and Ron, I am officially offering the three of you a place for Auror training. The Ministry recognises and appreciates your services and help in bringing down Voldemort and his Death Eater regime." Kingsley gave the Trio an official letter each.

"Ginny, for your role in the fight against Voldemort, the Ministry also offers you a place for Auror training. However, you must finish your final year in Hogwarts first." He gave Ginny a similar letter.

Hermione frowned. "But Kingsley - I mean, Minister, we did not take our NEWTS."

"Please, just call me Kingsley, Hermione. Well, the Ministry decided to offer Auror spots for those taking part in the Battle of Hogwarts. Unfortunately, as Ginny was too young at that time and did not participate, she must finish her final year first. However, regardless of her NEWTS results, she is guaranteed a spot should she accept when she graduates."

Ron, in his excitement, forgot about his mood for the time being. "Harry, mate, this is our chance! Count me in, Kingsley!"

Kingsley laughed.

"Before you make any decision, Mr. Weasley, I myself have an offer to make," McGonagall stepped in and produced letters for the Trio.

"Hogwarts is officially inviting all students who left last year due to the war, including the three of you. I am here to represent the school and try my best to convince my students to return for their education. I am hoping all of you would return, especially you, Miss Granger."

Hermione was excited. She had no interest in being an Auror.

"But won't we be too old for that, Professor?" Harry asked.

"Exceptions are made due to the circumstances, Mr. Potter. The same offer is given to all of your classmates. You will be returning as Seventh Years, of course."

"Professor, while I appreciate you coming here to give us this invitation, I'm curious you didn't just use owls," Hermione asked.

McGonagall sighed.

"Unfortunately, Miss Granger, many muggleborns from other years were pulled out from Hogwarts, as it was too dangerous for them to return at that time. When they were pulled out, where else could they continue their education? There was no other magical schools in the muggle world. So this week, both Minister Kingsley and I visit each and every child whose education was disrupted due to the war to assure parents that the war indeed, is over, and that their children will be safe. I am also hoping that my presence here will convince both Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley to return before starting their Auror careers," McGonagall explained with a twinkle in her eyes.

Ron had the grace to blush.

"Um Professor, no offense, but I'm not really good at studying as 'Mione here, so I think I'll pass and go for training immediately." Ron avoided his mother's eyes, knowing that his mother would want him to finish his studies first.

"As much as I love Hogwarts, I think it's time for me to start a new chapter of my life, Professor," Harry said honestly. "I am taking this offer, Kingsley. Thanks a lot, mate."

Kingsley was grinning.

"I am winning, Minerva," he joked. The Headmistress rolled her eyes.

All of them now looked at Hermione, waiting for her answer.

"I… I am honoured to be invited for the Auror programme. However, I would like to finish my education first."

Ginny yelled happily and gave Hermione a hug over the table, spilling a glass.

"Ginevra, watch what you're doing!" Molly admonished her youngest, who did not seem to hear.

"At least I have you, 'Mione! You boys suck!" She stuck her tongue at both Ron and Harry. That got her another scolding from Molly.

"Well Kingsley, it seems that all is not lost," McGonagall told the Minister.

Kingsley sighed.

"Now that the first two items are done, let's move on to the last one," Kingsley now used a serious tone and that got everybody's attention.

"This will be on the Daily Prophet tomorrow," he began. "A couple of days ago, the Ministry was contacted by both Gringgotts and Narcissa Malfoy. It seems that the Black line did not end with Sirius. Both the Headmistress and I are unable to provide much information to you but, a girl claiming to be heiress to the Black family appeared. Narcissa's father, Cygnus Black, confirmed this in his will kept by the Gringgotts. Narcissa herself just found out about this when this heiress appeared out of the blue, so nobody knows what games the old Black was playing at."

"This girl will attend Hogwarts this year with the both of you, Miss Granger and Miss Weasley," McGonagall took over from Kingsley. "She will be in the Seventh Year as well. We don't know whether she is a threat or not - initial investigation showed her to be not part of the Death Eaters. However, we can never be too careful. We are letting you know before the Daily Prophet prints tomorrow, so that you can prepare yourselves."

The four teens were shocked.

"Why can't that bloody line just die already?" grumbled Ron.

"Ron, we don't know how evil she is," Hermione chided him. Ron then remembered he was supposed to not talk to her and Harry, and he returned to being upset.

"Professor, what's this girl's name?" Ginny asked.

McGonagall pursed her lips and exchanged a look with Kingsley.

"You will find out in Hogwarts, Miss Weasley."

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Don't you know her name, Professor?" she asked.

McGonagall sighed.

"We do know. However, as she appears to be the legitimate heiress to the Black fortune and has not been presented to society yet, rules and traditions dictate us to not reveal her name until she has been officially presented," Kingsley answered for the Headmistress.

All four of them chorused "What?!"

"Unfortunately, that is how it is," Kingsley said. "As the Headmistress said, you will know more about her in Hogwarts. At any rate, we have to take our leave now. There are ten more children scheduled for today."

"I'll see you both to the door," Molly offered.

The teenagers, save for Ron, looked at each other.

"I thought we can live happily now," Hermione groaned.

Ron snorted.

Ginny squinted her eyes at her brother. "What's gotten into you?"

"Well, if you must know, ask the both of them!" Ron pointed at Harry and Hermione.

"Are you mad at me for sleeping early last night, Ron?" Hermione asked.

"Or is it because I refused to play chess with you?" Harry added.

Ron laughed darkly.

"Still pretending to be innocents, huh," he chuckled. "What were you doing this morning? I caught you both sleeping together!"

Ginny's eyes went wide.

"What? No, Ron!" Harry spluttered.

Hermione snapped. She could not believe what she was hearing.

"Listen here, Ron," Hermione spoke in low, threatening tones. "I had a nightmare last night and went to the kitchen for a drink. Harry was already there, making tea. We were sitting at the couch talking about my nightmare and drinking tea. We fell asleep. Yes, we slept together, but not in the manner you suggested!"

Hermione folded her hands and stared at Ron with daggers. Ron suddenly felt very foolish.

"Oh," he managed.

"Yes. Oh." Hermione repeated.

"So erm… nothing happened between you two?"

Harry shook his head.

"Mate, Hermione here is just like my sister. Nothing will happen between us, alright?"

Ron felt very awkward.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "So uh… what do you guys think of this heiress?"

"That's very classic, Ron," Ginny sniggered. "Act like a moron and when you realise it, just change subject."

Ron scowled.

"I dunno, mate. I just hope nothing bad will happen," Harry said.

Hermione remembered her nightmare and had a sinking feeling. She half-dreaded the coming school year.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**_

 _ **I hope you enjoy the story, and please do let me know if I make any mistakes – English is not my first language.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

Ginny was on the edge of Slumber Land. The summer night had been quite hot, but thankfully Hermione had thoughtfully casted a cooling charm on their room before they bid their goodnights. Ginny wanted to cast it herself but considering her birthday was still several weeks' away, she was not of age yet. Normally this would not be a problem, except for Hermione's innate sense of following the rules that had returned. The younger witch consoled herself that in a few weeks' time she could use magic whenever and wherever she wanted.

Just before she fell into the canyon that was Slumber Land, Ginny heard a flapping sound coming through the window. She groaned internally, hoping that the owl was not for her. She was facing the wall and had no intention of getting the owl - she was so close to sleeping. She, along with the Trio, had been de-gnoming the garden. This year's gnomes had been particularly ferocious, and it took them over seven hours and various bites to clear the garden. Ginny fervently hoped that Hermione was still awake and would be kind enough to deal with the owl.

Her prayer was answered.

She heard Hermione shuffling and moments later, the owl flew away. Ginny briefly wondered who would send a letter at this hour of the night. She mentally shrugged and decided that she would just find out in the morning. Ginny prepared herself to enter Slumber Land again. But, for the second time, just as she was falling asleep, she was brought back to Land of the Awake. Ginny was annoyed and wondered why was she awoken again. She strained her ears and heard sobbing from across her bed.

"Hermione? What's wrong? Is it bad news?" Ginny turned and opened her eyes.

Hermione was sitting on her bed, her back against the wall, and head in her hands. She did not answer Ginny.

Bargaining with her sleepy body, Ginny clumsily climbed down her bed and went to Hermione's. The former spotted the offending letter lying on the latter's bed, and debated internally whether to read it or not. Ginny had no idea whether the letter was specifically for Hermione or not. She decided against it, and held Hermione instead.

They were in that position for some time, with only Hermione's sobs breaking the silence. Ginny sensed that it was better to let the other witch cry and ask questions later, so she kept quiet. After what seemed to be an eternity, Hermione stopped crying and wiped her tears.

"They found my parents, Gin."

A million scenarios went running through Ginny's mind, most of them were things she hoped would not come true.

"Is that good or bad?" Ginny was afraid of asking, and more afraid of hearing the answer. "Should we get Harry and Ron? Do we need to make a plan? Should we contact Kingsley? Are we going into a battle?"

Hermione chuckled.

"They're alive, Gin. My parents are alive."

Ginny relaxed a little.

"After the war, I spoke to Kingsley about what I did to my parents and asked for his help to track them. I broke so many rules to hide my parents and did not want to break more to find them."

"They're not going to put you in Azkaban for that, right?" Ginny was worried.

Hermione shook her head.

"No. According to the Ministry, my actions were necessary for the war, and therefore I won't get in trouble for that, fortunately. Anyway, I've just got a letter from Kingsley, saying that the Aurors have located my parents and that they will arrange for me to go to Australia to see them."

Ginny sighed in relief.

"Why did you cry? Isn't that good news?"

Hermione fidgeted.

"What if their memories can't be returned? What if they can remember everything else but me? What if they hate me? I'm not ready to be an orphan, Gin!"

Tears started to fall again from her eyes. Ginny sympathised with her friend - she lost a brother and it was painful. She did not want to imagine how it felt like losing both parents. Ginny hugged the crying witch.

"'Mione, trust me, they won't hate you. They will understand that you did what you had to do. I know they won't blame you for Obliviating them. They love you too much for that," she consoled Hermione.

"What if they can't remember me?" Hermione whispered. There was a hint of panic in her voice.

"They will remember you, 'Mione. You're the brightest witch of your age, remember? You can and you will return their memories. Don't doubt yourself, alright?"

Hermione did not answer, but moments later Ginny could feel her friend nodded. When Hermione wiped away her tears, Ginny could see that the former had calmed a little.

"So tell me, when are you going to Australia? Are Harry and Ron going with you?"

Hermione shook her head.

"They don't even know I asked Kingsley for help. I don't want them to know, Gin. I want to do this by myself. I know they would accompany me and help me, but I don't want to complicate things."

Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"How would they complicate things?"

Hermione shrugged.

"Well," she hesitated, "until now they have never asked me about my parents even though they both know what happened. For the past couple of weeks the four of us would just hang out and spend time as if nothing major had happened. Maybe I'm not thinking straight but I don't think I can deal with my parents with Harry and Ron present."

Ginny felt guilty and mentally kicked herself. She did not pay attention to how Hermione was faring and whether the older girl was coping at all. For that matter, Ginny was stubbornly blind to her surroundings and did not want to see how the Trio were coping. She herself had been trying to avoid a one-to-one situation with Harry, not wanting to deal with the gigantic elephant in the room - their relationship. She herself had no idea how she felt about him. She was still rather angry that Harry broke it off for her "protection and safety" before gallivanting across Britain to defeat Voldemort. While she knew he had a good intention, it bothered her that he did not think she was smart enough to deal with hardships. Her own brother, that idiotic Ron, was allowed to accompany Harry, for Merlin's sake! Ginny was also feeling slightly mad at Hermione for not defending the redhead and not trying to convince Harry that while being a year younger, Ginny could hold her own ground in any fight.

But what was done was done. The past has gone. She has to deal with the present, but she felt unprepared to deal with it.

"I'm really sorry, 'Mione," Ginny said softly. "I don't know about them, but I myself did not want to stir the pot. Things were going fine, and I just want to be happy again. I'm really sorry for not noticing how you feel. That was thoughtless of me."

Hermione sighed.

"That's alright, Gin, I know that we all deserve a moment of peace, at least. I'm not angry at you, alright?"

Ginny nodded.

"The Ministry is trying to assess whether there are any damages done to my parents' memories, and if so, to what extent. Once they know, they'll prepare the suitable countercharm and they will arrange for me to meet my parents as well as performing the countercharm. I am nervous, but hopeful."

Ginny squeezed Hermione's hand.

"All will be well, 'Mione. I hope it won't take too long."

Hermione nodded.

Once again, they bid their goodnights.

* * *

Ginny was woken with the sound of her stomach rumbling. She groaned. She was famished. She was usually hungry in the mornings, yes, but never at this level. A glance at the clock answered her question. She swore and quickly changed clothes. If her mother found out she had been sleeping till noon, she would be getting an earful.

Ginny ran down in a hurry, skipping three steps at once. She groaned when she saw that the kitchen table was empty of food.

"Your mum had to go somewhere this morning, so we're left to fend for ourselves," Harry had entered the kitchen, grinning.

Ginny groaned loudly this time.

"I'll whip something up for you, Gin," Harry chuckled.

He kissed Ginny lightly on her cheek and went to prepare some food for the girl. Ginny froze. Her instincts screamed at her to hide and disappear - she was definitely not ready to deal with this. But her rumbling stomach made her take a seat.

"Um, thanks Harry."

Harry nodded. He fried some bacon and eggs - okay, a lot of bacon and eggs. Considering Ginny had not eaten breakfast as well, he knew she would be ravenous. He decided that a couple of pancakes would be good as well. After all, one should always bring a lot of ammunition when dealing with the Weasleys.

"Do you know where Hermione is?"

"She went with Ron outside. I'm not sure where they were going though, Gin. It's about time they're alone," Harry sniggered.

Ginny was silent. She despaired, would there be nobody to rescue her? She was dreading spending time with Harry. As she busied herself finding ways of avoiding Harry, the young man put plates of food in front of her. All thoughts of planning were gone in an instant, and Ginny ravenously gobbled everything in sight.

Harry chuckled. He sat opposite of Ginny, smiling as he watched her eat.

"Eat the food, Gin, don't inhale them."

Ginny, of course, ignored Harry's advice.

"Gin, I was thinking, since we have not spent some time together, wanna go out for dinner with me tonight?"

Ginny gulped the last bit of egg and, for the umpteenth time, groaned internally. Harry looked so hopeful and she felt guilty for what she was about to do.

"I'm sorry Harry, but I don't feel the same way with you anymore. I don't want to lead you on, but you are like a brother to me," Ginny told him truthfully.

Harry was crestfallen.

"Was it because of me leaving you during the War?" he whispered.

"Well," the redhead hesitated, "that's partly the reason. I realized that I need someone who will let me stand by his side facing challenges instead of someone who prefers to shove me to safety. While I appreciate you trying to keep out of danger, I don't like being kept in the dark and worrying about your safety all the time. I can hold my ground, Harry. Another reason is that I don't think we have the chemistry anymore. I'm so sorry, Harry."

Harry slumped at his seat.

"I understand, Gin," he nodded. "I don't blame you for that. I had a feeling you have no interest in an 'us' anymore, but I thought I should try."

"Mum's gonna kill me for this," she muttered.

Harry chuckled weakly. "It's your life, Gin. She's wonderful, but you should do what you want. You can stand your ground in this battle, right?"

Ginny laughed. She squeezed his hand.

"Thanks, Harry. I really appreciate this. Friends?"

Harry nodded.

"Friends."

* * *

When Hermione and Ron returned, Ginny noticed that they were holding hands and stealing glances at each other. Ginny rolled her eyes at them, but was glad that Hermione at least looked happier. Ron, meanwhile, was unhappy when he found out that Harry and Ginny were not together again. Surprisingly, he did not throw a tantrum. Ginny assumed that he reacted rather maturely due to him being on cloud nine with having Hermione.

All of them agreed not to let Mrs. Weasley know of the situation for the time being. None of them were keen on facing a disappointed/angry Mrs. Weasley. They felt that it was best to just let it be, and hopefully by the time all of them were gone to auror training and Hogwarts, the Weasley matriarch would get the hint and would not make a fuss about it.

They spent their days lazing around, enjoying their remaining carefree teenage years. The new couple would often disappear by themselves, and Ginny would drag Harry away from the Burrow before Mrs. Weasley started asking why were they not spending their precious time together. Ginny was glad that Harry could play Quidditch. At least it did not look weird they tend to spend a huge amount of time practicing Quidditch. Ginny wanted to be a professional Quidditch player and felt it was better if she were good in two positions. More teams would open their doors for her.

As per their custom, they celebrated Harry's birthday. While a lot of people came, it was obvious that many would never make their appearance anymore: Fred, Tonks, Remus, and Moody, to name a few. Percy even showed up for a while, although Ginny made it a point to avoid her elder brother. She still felt he had not done enough to earn their forgiveness for leaving them. But all in all, the party went smoothly. Kingsley came and Hermione later on told Ginny that she would be going to see her parents in three days' time. While Ginny was happy for her friend, she felt a bit sad as she would be all alone for her birthday - both Harry and Ron would be going for their Auror training in three days' time as well.

The three days before the Trio's departure to their respective destinations (Ron and Harry were a bit disappointed they could not accompany Hermione) were filled with a flurry of activities. The two boys were going to stay in Auror training camp until their training was completed, as their schedules would be hectic. In the final night, Ginny found Hermione sobbing on her bed. The redhead frowned and approached her crying friend.

"Hermione? What's wrong?"

Hermione wailed. Ginny could see that her friend was in a hysterical state and hugged her.

"'Mione, I'm here. What's wrong?"

Hermione just shook her head. Ginny did not say anything, but sat on the bed and just simply held the crying girl. Ginny wondered whether Hermione was nervous about meeting her parents. After some time, the crying subsided.

"I'm sorry to worry you, Gin."

Ginny pushed a stray strand of hair away from Hermione's face.

"What's wrong, 'Mione?"

Hermione was quiet for a moment.

"It's Ron," she hesitated. Seeing that Ginny looked at her expectantly, she continued, "He… he was being pushy. We won't be able to meet each other for quite some time and he felt that it's time we should bring our relationship to the next level. I… I told him I'm not ready and he got angry at me. I think we're over."

Ginny was livid. She swore. Before she could storm out of the room and murder her brother, Hermione pulled her hand.

"That's alright, Gin. Let him be. I'll deal with him, okay?"

Ginny wanted to protest but Hermione had a determined look on her face. The redhead sighed and reluctantly nodded. Ron may be safe that night, but he better watch his back.

* * *

The next morning, Kingsley came at exactly seven o'clock and Disapparated with Hermione. She hugged her goodbye to both Ginny and Harry, but ignored a sheepish-looking Ron. It seemed that Harry had a talk with him the night before, and if that did not put the boy in his right place, Ginny's infamous Bat-Bogey Hex must have worked. Ron looked crestfallen that he was ignored, but he did not push his luck. Ginny sometimes wondered what was in her brother that Hermione see. When both Harry and Ron went off to the Auror training camp, Ginny could feel how empty the house was. She was looking forward to go back to Hogwarts, but for the moment, there was her mother yelling at her to help with chores.


	3. Chapter 3

Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you still like the story. It's a slow progress, but that's how it goes in my mind, so sorry if the pace is too slow for you. As usual, Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling. I hope you enjoy the story and enjoy the weekend! CHAPTER 3

Hermione fidgeted with the Head Girl badge proudly pinned on her shirt. She was standing next to the Hogwarts Express, waiting for Ginny to arrive. She had promised the youngest Weasley to step into the train together. She could not fault Ginny's reason of "we are going to be classmates this year, so let's start it by stepping into the train together". As cute as that had been, Hermione did not take Ginny being late into account. The Golden Girl mentally kicked herself - she should have remembered Ginny's tendency to be late. She suspected that Ginny somehow managed to get into an argument with Mrs. Weasley about something which contributed to their late arrival.

Hermione idly watched her surrounding: there were quite a lot of students who went into hiding the previous year returning to Hogwarts. She recognised most of their faces and was quite happy to see Colin's brother, Denis, was among the returnees. She frowned when she saw Malfoy and Parkinson, but she did not make a comment. Narcissa was there to see her son off, but her husband was absent - Hermione remembered that Lucius was sentenced to a ten-year term in Azkaban and escaped getting the Kiss, thanks to Harry's testimony. The muggleborn witch tried to see whether the Malfoys were accompanied by a girl who shared Narcissa's features (Hermione assumed this). But she was disappointed that she could not see the new Black heiress anywhere.

She frowned when her thoughts turned to the recent news. All newspapers and magazines, including the Quibbler, seemed to take an exceptionally huge interest in the elusive Black heiress. Gossip columnists worked frantically, weaving one story after another, all which Hermione suspected were only figment of imaginations in the writers' minds. Somehow, the Malfoys managed to keep a tight lid on information regarding the Black heiress. Hermione was sure that journalists, especially one Miss Rita Skeeter, were working around the clock like dogs trying to get juicy information. But she was rather concerned when one gossip columnist wrote of Grimmauld Place and wondered how did the writer find out about that house. The piece talked about Sirius leaving the house to Harry upon his death, and speculated that the Black heiress would try to reclaim it. A cry for rally to defend Harry was raised, and a new fan club "Protect Our Hero" emerged. While Hermione found the whole thing to be irritating, she could not help being concerned about the possibility of a legal battle between Harry and the House of Black. She was sure Harry disliked the house, but at the same time would not want to just let it go. Grimmauld Place, for better or for worse, held memories that Harry would want to cherish.

Before she could continue pondering about the Black issue, a loud yell interrupted Hermione's thoughts. She turned and was attacked by a certain redhead who seemed to be hell-bent on crushing the Head Girl to death by hugs.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione! I woke up late and we were rushing and mum insisted I must visit George at his shop first before coming here even though we were late and I forgot to bring Pig so we had to go back to the Burrow to retrieve him and then we came here right after that and now I am here!" Ginny said all that in one sentence.

"Gin… let… me… breathe…"

The redhead grinned and released her death grip.

"How have you been, Head Girl?"

Hermione blushed. She was still in cloud nine getting the position, partly thinking she was not worthy of the post, and partly proud that she got the recognition she deserved.

"Things have been well. My parents are settling back in England and even though they are still somewhat mad at what I did, they understood why I did it. Honestly, I think it was Kingsley and other Aurors who convinced them not to hate me."

Ginny frowned.

"'Mione, they will never hate you. They're angry, yes, but they won't hate you. Trust me on that. Don't fret about it, alright?"

Hermione exhaled and nodded. Her parents, once their memories were returned, were understandably angry at first. Kingsley helped her explain the whole situation, and they calmed down. However, they could not get past the fact that their only child nearly died countless times while they were blissfully ignorant of the fact that they had a child. Hermione mistaken their emotions as not forgiving her actions while in fact they were blaming themselves for being unable to protect her. During the rest of the summer holidays, the three spent time together, back to rebuilding their lives in England. It was a nerve-wrecking period for the Head Girl, but she was glad to have her parents back.

"By the way, where are your parents, Gin? We are leaving soon and I really need to go to the Prefects' carriage."

Both of them looked around, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were nowhere to be found.

"Let's just get on the train, 'Mione. They'll be fine," Ginny said carelessly, taking Hermione's arm before the older witch could protest.

Just as they were entering the train, they heard a cough behind them.

"Not saying goodbye? We worked our asses to get an hour off to send you guys, you know."

Both girls whipped their heads around and were pleasantly surprised to see Harry and Ron grinning widely. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were behind the boys, laughing at the girls' reactions.

"You don't have to do this, Harry! Don't you have a busy schedule?" a delighted Hermione hugged her childhood best friend.

"It's just an hour, 'Mione. It's your final year at Hogwarts, of course I wanna see my best friend off."

Ron stepped up to hug Hermione, but the latter ignored him and took cover behind Ginny instead.

"How many times do I need to apologise before you forgive, 'Mione? I said I was sorry, alright?" Ron could feel his temper rising.

"Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley chided her youngest son.

"Mum, don't defend her. I know I pushed her too fast, but she won't accept my apologies. How am I supposed to know whether she has feelings for me or not? She knows we'll be busy for some time but she still acts like a girl. Guess what, Hermione? I want a real woman!"

Before anybody could react to Ron's outburst, he turned and stormed off, only to collide with a girl who had the misfortune to be in his path. Surprisingly, Ron decided to be a gentleman and helped the girl up, even went so far to gather her belongings for her. Ginny noticed that the girl had an eye patch over her left eye and wondered what caused it.

"I'm sorry, my lady, I must have startled you," Ron apologised loudly to the one-eyed girl.

"Um, that's alright, I wasn't really paying attention as well, I was in a hurry."

"No, no, it was my fault. I am glad it happened, though, for I have been given the privilege of seeing your beauty."

Harry's jaw dropped. The girl noticed that they were staring and she fidgeted. Hermione could not take it anymore and ran into the train, sobbing as she went.

Ginny swore and ran after her, yelling obscenities at Ron, promising him that she will make him pay. She threw an angry glance at the one-eyed girl, wishing the girl would just drop dead.

 _This is her fault_ , Ginny told herself. _No, this is Ron's fault, that git_.

She found Hermione sobbing in the corner of an empty carriage. Her heart went out to the older girl.

 _Ron doesn't deserve her_ , Ginny thought angrily.

She sat next to Hermione and gently rubbed the older girl's back, in an attempt to calm the latter. When the train moved, Ginny realized she had forgotten to say goodbye to her parents and Harry. Not only that, her plan of stepping into the train together with Hermione as classmates was shattered. She swore she would take revenge on her dearest brother.

Hermione had stopped crying, but she would not lift her head up. Ginny wisely kept her silence, and continued rubbing the other girl's back. She was devising ways of getting back at Ron and mentally made a note to discuss it with George. With the two of them teaming up, Ron had no chance of survival. She was lost in her planning that she did not hear knocking until Hermione lifted her head and softly said "enter".

The door to the carriage opened and the one-eyed girl stood at the entrance. She looked uncomfortable and guilty. Ginny narrowed her eyes, ready for a fight.

"What do you want?" Ginny asked rather rudely. That earned her an elbow to her ribs from Hermione.

The offending girl was startled and raised her hands to show she meant no harm.

"Look, I'm sorry to disturb you, but I would like to apologize for just now," the one-eyed girl hesitated. "I did not mean to cause any trouble for the both of you, especially to you, Hermione."

Hermione eyed her suspiciously.

"How do you know who I am? I've never seen you before."

"Er… you're famous? I mean, you're all over the news, even outside of Britain. I wanna thank you for what you did, Hermione. Without your efforts, I would not be here today. I wouldn't be able to return to Britain and I definitely wouldn't be able to have a chance at formal education. So, thank you."

The one-eyed girl looked so earnest and genuine that both Hermione and Ginny started to relax.

"You're welcome, I guess. But I was only helping Harry and everybody else."

Ginny noticed Hermione's avoidance at mentioning Ron.

"You're the brain of the operation, Hermione," Ginny looked at the Head Girl incredulously.

"Yes, don't sell yourself short, Hermione," the one-eyed girl added. "Again, I'm sorry if I created trouble between you and him just now. It wasn't my intention."

Hermione waved off the apology.

"It was not your fault at all, er…" Hermione looked at her expectantly.

"Oh, I'm Tristane."

"Well Tristane, it was not your fault. That damn boy is digging his own grave. There's no need for you to apologise."

Hermione was getting angry and fired up again, and Ginny was glad the former was not going to start crying again. An angry Hermione takes action - a crying Hermione hides.

"Oh no!" Hermione exclaimed and suddenly was frantically trying to tidy herself.

"Uh… what's up now, 'Mione?"

"I am the Head Girl and I have been hiding in this carriage, Gin, that's what! Crap, I need to get to the Prefects' carriage! See you later, Gin!"

With that, the new Head Girl ran off, stumbling over a few younger students on her way. Ginny laughed at her friend's antics. She would tease Hermione later on when the Head Girl returned. She then looked at Tristane who was still standing at the entrance, giggling at the sight of Hermione bulldozing students.

"Hey, Tristane, take a seat," Ginny gestured to the seat opposite her.

"Oh, thank you for the offer, but I promised my cousin I would sit with him. I'm new to Hogwarts and he is rather protective, you see," she gave Ginny an apologetic look.

"Aren't you too old to be an eleven year old?"

Ginny stared at the girl who was obviously of age. Tristane was at least a head taller than Ginny, and her curves were developed, not developing.

"No, I'm definitely not eleven," Tristane laughed. "I grew up outside of Wizarding Britain, as my parents were hiding from the Dark Lord. But his death allowed me to return here and get a bit of formal education at Hogwarts. I'm in Year Seven."

Ginny was surprised. She had assumed only those who were hiding in the past year were returning, but it seemed that there would be many new faces in all years. It was going to be an interesting year, which suited Ginny fine, as long as it would not involve Death Eaters.

"Well anyway, I really must go. My cousin's going to get mad. See you later!"

Ginny wondered who Tristane's cousin was. She mentally shrugged and take out her notebook. She was determined to win the Quidditch Cup this year and added tactics to her well-worn book.

Hermione shushed Ginny, who was grumbling and groaning for food. Headmistress McGonagall was calling the names on her list one by one to be Sorted. Most were first years, although there were quite a few older students. The Head Girl spotted Tristane to be one of them, looking nervous. The Sorting started with all first years, then second years, and so forth. It would be quite a while before Tristane's name came up. Hermione was quite curious who Tristane was - it was not every day Hogwarts would get a one-eyed student. Hermione was not the only one noticing Tristane - many students were whispering and openly staring at the latter's eye patch. However, Tristane was not the only one getting the Hall's attention.

At the staff's table, a certain blonde French Veela was watching the Sorting with interest, paying no heed to the attention she attracted. Hermione frowned and wondered why was Fleur Delacour made a teacher, and at Hogwarts. A stiffened Ginny indicated that the younger witch had no idea that her sister in law would be teaching there as well. Hermione noticed that Andromeda Tonks, who shared likeness to the notorious Bellatrix Black, was there as well. The Head Girl had a feeling that McGonagall wanted Andromeda to be there to watch the Black Heiress.

The Black Heiress! Hermione kicked herself for forgetting about her. With all the emotional turmoil she had been facing, she had forgotten about her mission of watching for the Black Heiress. She scanned the Slytherin table and saw Draco Malfoy traced the table with his finger, uninterested with the proceedings. Next to him was Pansy Parkinson, whispering and giggling to Milicent Bulstrode. Why on Earth would they return to Hogwarts was a mystery to Hermione. At least Malfoy was somewhat interested in his studies, so it made sense he would be return. Hermione was determined to figure out why most of the Slytherins (minus the dead) returned to Hogwarts. But the Head Girl could not see any unfamiliar girl in the Slyterin table, aside from the newly Sorted.

Hermione realised that the Black Heiress would be one of those not Sorted yet, and she focused on the Sorting, scrutinizing each girl that was called by the Headmistress. As the line thinned out, no "Black" was called. Hermione had a sinking feeling and crossed her fingers.

"Black, Tristane!"

The only person left for the Sorting made her way to the chair nervously, with everyone present in the Hall focused on her . Hermione heard Ginny groaning next to her.

"But she seemed like a nice person!" the redhead was protesting softly to nobody in particular.

Hermione silently agreed with her friend. She had taken a liking to Tristane and the latter did not seem… evil. The Head Girl observed Malfoy and saw him focusing intently on Tristane, his hands clasped together. She figured that he was the cousin Tristane was looking for. Hermione frowned, remembering that the Malfoys came before Tristane, and they did not even wait for the one-eyed girl. Unlike the Malfoys, Tristane dressed in standard Muggle student attire: jeans, a tee, and a jacket. There were so many questions running in Hermione's mind, and she was determined to get to the bottom of things.

The Hat was taking its time on Tristane's head, causing murmurs of speculation.

"She's a Black, she's a Slytherin," a boy somewhere on Hermione's right predicted.

"She doesn't look like one, she looks too nice for them. I think she'll be in Hufflepuff," a girl speculated in a loud whisper.

Hermione frowned at them and hissed. They kept quiet, realizing they got caught by the Head Girl.

After ten minutes, the Hat was still on Tristane's head. There were a couple of times when the girl shook her head, as if disagreeing with the Hat.

"I wish they'd just agree on something already," Ginny complained. "I'm hungry."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Trust Ginny's stomach to keep her priorities in order.

The Headmistress looked rather worried and stepped down from the staff's table. She was making her way to Tristane when the Hat suddenly yelled, "SLYTHERIN!"

One table clapped furiously. Hermione noticed that many coins exchanged hands around the Hall. Even Ginny slid a Galleon to a grinning Neville. The Head Girl gave them both a scandalous look.

"Look, Hermione, just let it go this once, alright?" Neville whispered.

The Head Girl sighed and shook her head. Trust the students to make a betting out of something so sacred. She was not in the mood to admonish anyone, so she just kept quiet.

As Tristane walked to the Slytherin table, many Slytherins rose from their seats, still clapping wildly. Malfoy hugged her and looked ecstatic. Parkinson made space at the table and a relieved-looking Tristane sat between Malfoy and Parkinson.

"Is she some kind of celebrity?" Ginny asked.

Hermione could only shrugged. The Black Heiress was becoming a more important project for the Head Girl, and she would not stop until her curiosity was satisfied. At the staff's table, Andromeda watched her newly Sorted niece with a blank face. Hermione made a note to ask the professor for information on the Black Heiress.

The Headmistress then raised her hand, and the Hall went silent. She introduced the new staff and to Hermione's surprise, Andromeda was the new Potions Mistress as well as Slytherin Head while Fleur was teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. The Head Girl was sure something serious was going on involving Tristane, and she realised that her final year at Hogwarts may still involve unwanted adventures.

Hermione groaned internally. She was really not looking forward to this.


	4. Chapter 4

Happy New Year everyone! I'm on holidays at the moment and having some difficulties trying to update the story as the country where I am right now blocks access to fanfiction, of all things in the world *grumbles* Do forgive me if the format looks weird. I will edit it once I return from holidays. I hope you are still enjoying this story. Again, happy new year! Chapter 4

Hermione was writing to her parents. After they returned to Britain, Hermione bought them an owl to enable easier communication. She wondered why it never occurred to her to do that from before. She told them of her first day at Hogwarts as Head Girl (minus the Black Heiress and Ron incident) and wrote of her excitement to have her own quarters.

As Head Girl, she shared quarters with the Head Boy, in this case to be Malfoy. While she was annoyed she would be in close proximity to the Slytherin, she was happy that she did not need to bunk with a few other girls. She could have her own peace and quiet, and could study in her room without disturbances from giggling and gossiping girls. She even had her own bath in her room. While the Prefects' Bathroom was great, she still needed to share with several other students, both Prefects and Quidditch Captains. Now, however, she could have it all to herself. The only thing she had to share with Malfoy was the Head Common Room consisting of a fireplace, two couches, a coffee table, and a kitchenette. She was sure she would be the only one using the kitchenette - after all, since when would a Malfoy lift a finger to do any housework?

All in all, Hermione was satisfied with her new quarters. Her room had a bookcase, wardrobe, and a large study table. It was decorated in Gryffindor colours. She felt right at home. She assumed Malfoy's was decorated in Slytherin green, and was thankful that their common room was in neutral colours.

Done with her letter, she let the owl flew off and jumped into bed. It had been a rather eventful day for her and the Head Girl was exhausted. Within moments, she drifted off to sleep.

Hermione had to drag Ginny off from Gryffindor table during breakfast. The redhead had decided to tackle both food and Quidditch planning at the same time, which made quite a mess. The Seventh Years had double period of Advanced Potions first thing in the morning and Hermione did not want to disappoint Andromeda, now known as Professor Tonks.

Both girls barely made it in time and slipped to the nearest empty seats before Andromeda arrived. The class was small - there had not been many who achieved the necessary marks for Advanced Potions. Hermione and Ginny were the only representatives for Gryffindor. Hermione counted that there were three Ravenclaws and one Hufflepuff. Slytherins, however, counted the most in the room: Malfoy, Tristane, Parkinson, Zabini, and Nott. Hermione wondered whether Snape had a hand in ensuring Slytherins to reign supreme in Potions.

Unlike her predecessors, Andromeda preferred to spend one period of class time to discuss and debate various theories presented in their textbook. While Hermione held a wealth of knowledge in her brilliant mind, she could not explain the reasoning behind many instructions given by the book. For the first time in her life in Hogwarts, Hermione actually enjoyed a Potions lesson, and learned something in class, instead of knowing it before entering the room. She noted that their textbooks only set instructions in brewing various potions, but never discuss in great depth why those steps were necessary. Snape might have been a great Potions Master, but Andromeda eclipsed him as an instructor.

Hermione was also feeling greatly relieved and free with no Harry and Ron by her side, trying to copy her notes or making her worry they make mistakes. Ginny was clever and competent, and the Head Girl saw the redhead in a new light. Strangely enough, Andromeda did not seem to favour the points system. Regardless of the number of times Hermione gave correct answers, no points were given. This confused the brilliant witch and she decided not to answer the next couple of questions. When Parkinson answered the next couple of questions correctly and Andromeda still did not award points, Hermione was perplexed: had Andromeda forgotten the points system?

Before she could dwell on that, one period had passed and Andromeda set them to brew Flu Potion with a twist: the potion must taste of dark chocolate but still have the same potency like the original. The class had done the original in their fourth year, and the general attitude was of confidence. But soon they realised changing the taste added several layers of complexity. Andromeda would not provide direct answers: she would return questions with her own questions, forcing them to try to understand the essence of the potion itself.

Andromeda had also asked Hermione to work together with Tristane, who did not seem to have any basic knowledge of potion making. The Head Girl wondered how Tristane was allowed to even take the class. For that first class, Hermione found herself doing most of the work while poor Tristane tried her best to help.

Predictably, Hermione was the only one who could produce dark chocolate Flu Potion with the same potency like the original by the end of the class. Again, no points were awarded, which confused Hermione even more.

 _How do I get points in this class?_ She wondered.

Andromeda gave them a homework and asked for both Hermione and Ginny to stay behind. The girls watched Malfoy carried Tristane's books and bag like a gentleman. While the Black Heiress cheerfully waved the girls goodbye, the rest of the Slytherins gave them their usual unfriendly, sneering faces. A week had not settle yet, but Hermione was already exhausted.

"Settling in yet, girls?" Andromeda was grinning.

"Yes, Professor," Hermione answered for the both of them.

"Call me Andromeda when we're alone, please," the professor's tone made it clear that it was a command, not a request.

The girls nodded.

"What do you think of Tristane?"

Hermione was surprised that Andromeda would be direct.

"She seems alright, for a Black," Ginny answered.

Andromeda raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, aside from you, 'Dromeda," Ginny added hastily.

"She doesn't seem like the typical Black," the professor admitted. "To be honest, Minerva dragged me here to observe Tristane, but aside from obviously being close to my nephew and get Sorted to Slytherin, she seems pretty normal."

"Do you know her parents, 'Dromeda? I don't think your sister ever had a child," Hermione was referring to the crazed Death Eater.

Andromeda shook her head. She glanced at the door and muttered _Muffliato_.

"I'm just being cautious," she explained. "Well, I don't know anything about her parents, but from what I was told, my dearly departed father had a bastard son who, for some reason, disappeared without a trace. My father never told any of us of this, and left a Will in Gringgotts that should this son or this son's offspring ever appeared, all inheritance goes to him. In this case, Tristane inherits everything."

Seeing the look on Hermione's face, Andromeda added, "But don't worry, I was assured by Tristane herself that she had no intention of contesting Grimmauld Place or Kreacher. Harry would be fine."

Both Hermione and Ginny sighed in relief.

"I don't know what my father was playing at, but I do know him well enough that his actions involve something dark and sinister. Tristane may appear harmless and docile, but if she is favoured by my father, she is dangerous. Unfortunately, I don't know what's going on. Narcissa would not tell me anything, naturally. Are you both able to snoop around? I know it's asking a lot from the both of you, considering the War is just over, but I noticed Tristane seemed friendly enough to the both of you."

"Don't worry, 'Dromeda, we'll do anything to prevent another war. We don't like this as well, but we understand that we can find out what's going on," Hermione promised, and Ginny nodded in agreement.

"I'm really sorry the both of you have to do this kind of thing again in your final year. I wish all dark wizards would just disappear," Andromeda smiled wistfully.

"Um, Andromeda, can I ask you a question?" Hermione fidgeted.

Both Ginny and the professor stared at the Head Girl curiously. Andromeda nodded her assent.

"Did I perform badly? I mean, why didn't you award points? Was something wrong?"

"You were brilliant as ever, Hermione," the professor chuckled while Ginny guffawed. " It's just that I prefer to teach a class without having an air of competitiveness. I find the points system to be quite annoying and detrimental to a student's learning. I want my students to dare to engage in a healthy debate instead of killing one another and refusing to listen to others just for the sake of points. While you are naturally brilliant, other students do not receive the same gift."

Hermione blushed. She knew of her brain's prowess but she still felt embarrassed when people praised her.

"On that topic, I'm afraid I, or rather the teachers, have another favour to make, Hermione."

The Head Girl looked at her expectantly.

"Apparently, Tristane grew up not knowing much of her heritage and as I am sure you have noticed, she knew nothing about potion-making. The Headmistress decided to allow Tristane to study in Hogwarts as a Seventh Year, but she will not be taking N.E.W.T. Both the Minister and the Headmistress feel that by letting Tristane come to Hogwarts, she will be slowly introduced to the Wizarding Society while at the same time we can observe her and hopefully figure out what is going on. Since she is nearly completely clueless in her subjects, we teachers decided to pair her with you in any class you both share. You will not be slowed down by her - you are too brilliant. At the same time, you can strike a friendship of sorts with her and snoop around. I know Draco had requested her to be partnered with him, but if we allow that, we would learn nothing. I'm really sorry we are burdening you, Hermione."

The brunette shrugged.

"It's all fine by me, Andromeda, really. I'll do it."

"And I'll help her," Ginny chimed.

Andromeda hugged the two girls.

"Thank you very much, ladies. I hope the both of you will be a positive influence on her - I don't want any more of my family members to walk down the dark path."

That evening, Ginny visited Hermione in the Head's Quarters. The redhead admired the view from Hermione's bedroom, for the quarters were located at the second tallest tower, far away from any dormitories, looking over the Forbidden Forest and the mountains beyond. Ginny made a mental note to memorise the location, hoping to one day prank Hermione by flying in through her window.

"Your bed is bigger! This is unfair!"

Ginny unceremoniously jumped on the bed, rolling back and forth.

"You git, you have your own room as well, o thou Quidditch Captain," Hermione threw a pillow at the redhead.

"Yeah, but I don't have my own quarters and my bed's smaller," Ginny made a face.

She inspected the room with interested eyes, and chuckled fondly to see books occupying most of the space. The room would not be Hermione's if there were no unnecessarily huge amount of books in it. The redhead wondered whether Hermione's room in the Grangers house would be filled with books as well. She frowned when she realised that neither she nor Harry and Ron, Hermione's best friends, had ever spent time at the Grangers'. That must be rectified. She shook her head and focused on the present.

"Alright, now show me your common room!"

Ginny jumped from the bed and dragged Hermione by the arm enthusiastically. The former had heard there was a kitchenette and was hoping there was food as well. But she, and the Head Girl, were both unprepared to face the sight of the kitchenette.

"Wow, Ferret, you actually know how to make tea?" Ginny could not keep the shock out of her voice.

Draco Malfoy, the arrogant pureblood Slytherin Prince, famous for ordering house elves to do everything including assisting him to dress in the mornings, was in the kitchenette, getting his hands dirty. He scowled when he saw them.

"Buzz off, Weasel."

Ginny then noticed he was holding not one, but two cups.

"Who's that for?"

"Mind your own business, Weasel. I suggest the both of you to make yourselves scarce. The room is dirty enough without having your presence add to the filth."

Ginny could not believe her ears. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had rescued the prat from a certain death, yet here he was, acting like he was better than everybody else. Both she and Hermione drew their wands and pointed them at Malfoy's defiant face.

"What's going on?" a worried voice asked from the door.

All three turned their heads and saw Tristane standing at the entrance, staring at them with concern on her face.

"What did you do, Draco?"

Malfoy's eyes bulged.

"I did nothing, Tris!" he sputtered. "I was making tea. They're the ones attacking me! Can't you see my hands are holding teacups, instead of my wand?"

Hermione seemed to be embarrassed, ashamed that as Head Girl she was not setting out a good example. She lowered her wand and tugged at Ginny's arm to do the same. The redhead looked mutinous for a moment but did as requested. Tristane rolled her eyes and walked to one of the couches, making herself comfortable.

"I'm sorry for my cousin's behaviour, ladies. He can be impossible at times," she grinned at both Ginny and Hermione.

Malfoy walked past the two girls, muttering angrily. He set one cup in front of Tristane and sat next to her. Ginny narrowed her eyes.

"What did you say, Malfoy?" the redhead's tone was harsh.

"I said, I can't believe I have to be in close proximity to dirt and mud," he looked at Ginny coldly.

Predictably, wands were drawn again. This time, however, Malfoy was ready and drew his as well. Before Ginny could yell at the blond to apologise to Hermione, Tristane calmly smacked his head.

"Ouch! What was that for?"

"What's Hermione's favourite colour?" the Black Heiress asked him calmly.

That question threw everybody in the room and the tension subsided.

"Er… what?"

Tristane rolled her eyes.

"I repeat, what's Hermione's favourite colour?"

Malfoy looked at her as if she had spouted antlers on her head.

"Why would I know that?"

"Then stop insulting her, Drake. Don't insult people you don't know. I don't see the point of you insulting her based on what she is, instead of who she is," Tristane calmly explained.

She sipped her tea.

"What?"

"You heard me, Draco," Tristane said impatiently. "Lower your wand and stop throwing meaningless insults. You don't know her at all, so you shouldn't insult her unnecessarily. If you insist on insulting her, then I shall insist on you spending time with her to get to know her. At least then your insults have substance."

Malfoy looked horrified at the suggestion. He glanced at Hermione and found that the Head Girl looked both amused and horrified as well. She definitely had no intention on spending time with the Head Boy. He decided that a fight with Tristane was not worth it, so he lowered his wand. Ginny and Hermione exchanged looks and they lowered theirs as well.

"Come sit here with us, guys. We haven't had the chance to talk much in the train and in class," Tristane invited the two girls.

"Make tea for them, Drake," she ordered, which the boy reluctantly complied.

While Ginny loathed to spend time with Malfoy, she could not pass up the chance of pissing the boy. It was not every day Draco Malfoy would obey an order to make tea for her and Hermione. She grinned and dragged the Head Girl to the couch opposite Tristane.

"So, how do you find Hogwarts, Tristane?" the redhead asked.

"It's amazing. The people here are generally nice, the place is beautiful, the ghosts are interesting, and the lessons, while complex, are fun! I was quite apprehensive in the train, cuz some people were telling me to be careful of Slytherins, but the Slytherins had been nothing but friendly and welcoming. I love it here!"

The Black Heiress took a box from her satchel and opened it, offering the content to the girls. There was an assortment of cookies. Ginny happily took one. It was delicious. Hermione laughed, knowing how much the redhead loved food. Tristane grinned at Ginny's reaction.

"It's fantastic, isn't it? Nobody can beat Aunt Cissa's cookies. She's a talented baker."

Ginny choked and coughed, earning a concerned look from Tristane.

"Narcissa Malfoy bakes cookies?" Hermione could not believe her ears.

"My mother is not as useless as you think, Granger," Malfoy answered for Tristane. He set down the tea, which Hermione stared at suspiciously.

The blond rolled his eyes. Some people could not appreciate the trouble he went to make them tea.

"It's not poisonous," he huffed.

Ginny and Hermione gingerly sipped the tea, not wanting to be rude to Tristane. He eyed them critically but said nothing, opting to sit next to his cousin and read a book. For the rest of the conversation, he ignored them, only to occasionally glance at his cousin, as if wanting to ensure her safety. Ginny was intrigued by this - she had never seen Malfoy this caring or concerned for someone before. She was getting more curious by the girl named Tristane Black.

While Hermione excitedly chatted with Tristane about schoolwork, Ginny munched the delicious cookies and observed the Black Heiress. While the latter did not look exactly like either of the Black sisters, Tristane did have some of the Black features: infamous haughty beauty that runs in the family, dark and curly hair, and a height many female Quidditch players would die for. Her eye was grey though, similar to Malfoy's. If one would pay attention, one could see that Tristane was a Black. Ginny was glad she could not see any insanity in Tristane's eye. It would be a shame for the friendly girl to end up like Bellatrix.

Ginny felt that her mission to befriend and find out more about the Black Heiress was going to be a success: the target was friendly and open enough, unlike the rest of the Slytherins. However, the redhead was concerned with Malfoy's presence - he could be a hindrance. It was obvious he was reluctant to leave Tristane alone with the Gryffindors. Ginny wondered whether he genuinely was looking out his cousin, or he was on a mission to protect something else. She would discuss with Hermione tonight and make plans on diverting his attention from Tristane so that one of them could get the girl alone.

Something that Tristane said previously echoed in Ginny's mind and as the redhead sipped her cooling tea (Malfoy's tea was not as wonderful as his mother's cookies), plans began to form in her mind.


	5. Chapter 5

_**I am truly sorry for the delays, but I have just returned from holidays and finally able to access this website without stressing myself out. I think I will be checking whether the countries I go to for holidays have any internet censorship to make plans for updates.**_

 _ **I hope you are still enjoying the story, and thank you for bearing with my slow pace.**_

 _ **As usual, the Harry Potter world is owned by JK Rowling.**_

* * *

 **CHAPTER 5**

Hermione, as predicted, had refused to go with Ginny's mad plans. The Head Girl had no desire of suffering the presence of the devil incarnate, even if it was for the ultimate good of the wizarding world. She was adamant that it should be Ginny taking the role of distracting the devil, considering it was the redhead's idea in the first place. However, Hermione could not find fault in the younger witch's main argument.

"You're a Muggleborn, 'Mione. He can stand not insulting me but there's no way he could stop himself from insulting you. Plus, how else can we get her by herself? She's always with people ," the redhead had pleaded.

Hermione groaned, knowing that Ginny was right. The Head Girl could not think of any better plan of distracting Malfoy and she reluctantly agreed. Hermione had requested a copy of Malfoy's and Tristane's schedules from McGonagall, to aid their plans on monopolising Tristane's time. They knew that aside from Malfoy, the Slytherin House was following the Black Heiress around, as bodyguards of sorts. This added fuel to the media articles and gossips that Tristane was marked as the next Dark Lord, or in this case, Lady. Naturally, the other three Houses were suspicious of the girl from her first day of Hogwarts, which increased the Slytherin House's paranoia of Tristane's safety and resulted in more "bodyguards" for the girl, which heightened suspicion. The cycle was endless.

Tristane was only taking three subjects: Advanced Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Herbology. It was not surprising, considering she had no prior knowledge of any Hogwarts subjects. She had confided to Hermione during Advanced Potions that regardless which class she took, there was no way she could pass N.E.W.T. After all, her time at Hogwarts was to introduce her to the wizarding world and hopefully she would be able to gain some knowledge. Hermione pitied the girl - there was intelligence in Tristane's eye, and she was not able to show it just because her circumstances were not right. During Advanced Potions, Tristane kept on surprising Hermione that the former learned things quickly and was skilled with her hands. Potioneering required calm and steady hands as well as patience rivaling that of the dead, all three which Tristane had. While Hermione would not trust the Slytherin to brew potions by herself just yet, the Head Girl could leave some aspects of potions preparations to the other witch.

Unfortunately, Malfoy was taking the same subjects that Tristane took, in addition to several other subjects. While in DADA and Herbology Tristane was paired off with Hermione, the demands of the coursework prevented the Head Girl from making any meaningful conversations with the Slytherin. Every time the class ended, Malfoy and the Bodyguards (Ginny gave the Slytherins following Tristane that name) whisked the Black Heiress away, leaving no chance for both Gryffindors to talk to Tristane. The only time when they could have sort of a private conversation with their target was whenever Tristane visited Malfoy in the Heads' Quarters. But again, Malfoy would not leave his cousin alone. Hermione felt that at this rate, they would be lucky if they could find out Tristane's favourite food by the end of the school year.

The girls only had one year to solve this mystery, and time was ticking. After a week of trying to find opportunities to talk privately with Tristane and failing, Hermione decided they would put Ginny's plans into action.

One afternoon, during Tristane's usual visit, Hermione managed to goad Malfoy to lose his self control and derided the Head Girl in front of his cousin. Hermione exchanged victorious glances with Ginny while a mad Tristane berated Malfoy. As promised, the Black Heiress demanded her cousin to spend time with Hermione in order for him to 'make meaningful insults'. The Head Girl was horrified when Tristane insisted for Malfoy to spend at least four hours daily with Hermione for the next three months, outside of classes and their official duties. However, the brunette did not voice her protest and silently sipped her tea (it was custom by now that Malfoy would make tea whenever Tristane appeared), thinking of strategies to keep Malfoy as far away from Tristane as possible.

"I'm going to the library," she announced, standing abruptly.

Tristane nudged a reluctant Malfoy to follow.

"I'm not going, Draco," the Black Heiress argued exasperatedly. "It's your own fault to insult someone you don't know. I am going to stay here and enjoy my tea with Ginny - unless you're going somewhere, Gin?"

Ginny shook her head. She hid her smirk behind her teacup. Her plan was successful.

"No, I don't need a babysitter," Tristane added before Malfoy could argue. "Both Ginny and Hermione had never been mean to me from the start, and I doubt they have any evil intentions toward me. I'll be fine, Draco. Now go with Hermione and start to get to know her before you decide to throw insults."

Malfoy grumbled but he obediently did as was asked.

"He can be difficult at times, but he's a good guy," Tristane commented once the Heads disappeared.

Ginny chose not to comment on that.

"I know this is unintentional, but I think I need to thank Hermione later."

Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"Draco is sweet and all, but he's overprotective," the one-eyed girl explain. "I barely have time to myself. His friends follow me everywhere I go, and they will actually wait for me whenever I go to the toilet! It's a nightmare."

"I never knew Malfoy can be that caring," the redhead chuckled.

"I know he means well and he's worried for my safety. I'm not stupid, I'm aware that Slytherins are hated in general, and that I carry a surname nobody likes, but Merlin, I am not defenseless!" Tristane groaned and massaged her temple.

Ginny pitied the girl - she was thrust into the spotlight suddenly, without any warnings. She could barely use her wands to do simple spells and already the whole wizarding world pegged her as the next evil being. It was not a position the redhead envy.

"Well, to be fair, if anyone tries to hex you, there's no way you can defend yourself, Tris. I mean, you can barely levitate an object."

Tristane sighed.

"You're right, Gin. I'm being an ass, I guess. Would you help me improve, by any chance? I heard you're skilled with hexes."

Ginny hesitated. Would she want to assist a potential evil being in improving her skills? On one hand, the redhead did not want potential dangers. On the other, she could not resist the looks of hope and innocence Tristane gave. The Black Heiress, Ginny noted, had warm eyes. Eye, she corrected herself. The other eye had gone to…somewhere. She took a deep breath and made her decision, consequences be damned.

"Sure, I'll help you. What spells are you keen on learning?"

That evening, Ginny found herself enjoying teaching, something she never thought she would actually like. She patiently helped Tristane mastering a simple levitating spell, and when the Slytherin managed to levitate one of Hermione's thick books for nearly a minute, Ginny was filled with joy and before she could stop herself, she hugged the other witch. Who knew that teaching could make one so happy? The redhead had never considered teaching before, but now she felt that she could consider teaching as her backup plan for the future if her Quidditch career would fail. Seeing the pure happiness on the Slytherin's face for mastering a spell any eleven-year-old could do fueled Ginny's motivation to help Tristane master more spells.

* * *

For the umpteenth time, Hermione wondered whether she was foolish enough to go along with Ginny's idea. The more the brunette thought about it, the more she worried and regretted her decision. Malfoy did not put as much resistance as she expected, which it in itself was worrying enough. Tristane obviously had no magical skills whatsoever, as shown by her lack of wand mastery and limited magical knowledge. Hermione was sure that even the first years would be able to defeat the Black Heiress in a simple duel. Coupled with Malfoy's behaviour for the past week of never letting Tristane alone by herself, the Head Girl wondered whether the two Gryffindors were being played at. She was beginning to be suspicious and hoped Ginny would be alright.

"Why are you here, Malfoy?" if she did not find out soon, she would go crazy.

Malfoy, who had started to tackle his Advanced Transfiguration essay, looked at Hermione in the eyes and gave her a 'are-you-stupid' look.

"My cousin's the one having one eye and yet you're the blind one? I'm doing my essay, obviously."

Hermione's temper flared. What was she expecting? That Malfoy would miraculously be pleasant?

"No, Malfoy, why are you here? Why did you follow me? You couldn't detach yourself from Tristane for the past week yet you are here, leaving her alone." Hermione controlled her voice, not wanting to evoke the wrath of Madam Pince and be barred from the librarian's sacred library.

Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"I'm seriously wondering how did you even managed to survive last year," he muttered. "I'm here because if I want to insult you again, I must know you first and be able to insult you for who you are, not for what you are. Since I am required to spend time with you four hours daily, I have to tag along with you, don't I? Oh and by the way, what's your favourite colour?"

Hermione stared at him incredulously.

"Since when you take orders like that? Is she your new master?"

Malfoy started to laugh. Hermione hissed at him to be quiet.

"Granger, my cousin can barely perform a simple spell," he wiped tears from his eyes. "She doesn't act like a typical Slytherin, and she is definitely not scary. Contrary to popular beliefs, I do have a heart, you know. She's my family. I'm doing as she requested because I am fond of her and therefore I don't want her to get mad at me."

It still did not make any sense to Hermione.

"So let me get this straight: you're here because she requested you to, but you wouldn't leave her alone regardless how many times she asked?"

Malfoy, whose face had been full of mirth, turned dark. He returned to writing his essay, unwilling to continue the conversation. Hermione wanted to scream and for a fraction of a second, thought of punching the blond like she did years ago. But, as Head Girl, she had to set a good example. She exhaled and controlled her temper.

"Malfoy, you're not the only one who have to put up with me - I have to put up with you as well. I can refuse this arrangement and make life difficult for you, or you can answer my question. If you're going to know me, I have to know you too."

Malfoy eyed her suspiciously.

"Why? You're not required to know me."

"You're not the only one who wants to make substantial insults."

Malfoy chuckled. He sighed and massaged his neck. Hermione waited, arms crossed.

"Well," he finally said. "Hogwarts is dangerous for her. Now, before you disagree," he raised a hand and stopped Hermione from arguing, "you have to see it from my point of view. Since time immemorial, nobody has ever liked Slytherins, aside from us Slytherins. Once a Slytherin is Sorted, the rest of the school will place judgment and condemnation, regardless of the character of the said Slytherin. All of you hate it when Snape played favourites on us, yet nobody seemed to mind when Dumbledore favoured Potter. Every single year, Dumbledore would award points for some strange excuses and regardless of Gryffindor's position, you guys were guaranteed the Cup. You preached fairness to the world, even going so far to try to alter the house elves' lives, yet you did not care when said fairness was not afforded to the Slytherins. If I were placed in any other House, I bet any mischief I did to Potter and Weasley would be categorised as 'pranks'. All of you shunned us from the moment we were Sorted, yet you wonder why we dislike you?

But I digress. This is not about me. This is about Tristane. My cousin had no idea how life would be at Hogwarts. I did tell her as much as I could, but at the same time I did not want her to have any prejudice before stepping in the train. Have you ever wonder why she was roaming by herself in the train instead of being with me?"

Hermione nodded. That had been one of the questions plaguing her mind.

"I wanted people to see her as just another ordinary student. Gossips are already rife on the papers, if people find out she is a Black, nobody would ever give her a chance to even give a polite greeting. Nobody would believe that she is new to the wizarding world. People would immediately lump her together with Aunt Bella. I bet had you known who she is, neither you nor Weasley would be nice to her in the train. Did you notice that as soon as her name was called during the Sorting, people immediately condemned her? And when she was Sorted as Slytherin, only our House made her feel welcomed. You know she is a Black, and you know the Blacks' history. Yet from the start all of you would do nothing aside from pushing her toward the dark side. Did you know that she gets hate mails daily from strangers? Blaise and I screen her mails. Aside from my mother's daily cookies, nobody sends her a genuine mail. Did you know that we have already caught some students slipping potions into her drinks? Pansy, Theo, and Daphne are watching her food. Tristane has no idea that people are already hating her, the same people that viewed her neutrally before they knew her surname. Do you want another Dark Lord? Because that's how you get another Dark Lord."

Hermione was shocked. For years, she thought she had never given in to Harry and Ron's usual stance on Slytherins, and was proud of her ability to not be judgmental even to the Snakes. She even defended Snape on several occasions, even though the late teacher had been nothing but unpleasant to her. But when Malfoy said that, she realised that the only reason she defended Snape was because Dumbledore said he could be trusted. She did not even bother to try to know the man. She trusted Dumbledore with all her being, and never questioned his orders or actions. Not even once. Not even when he displayed blatant favouritism to Gryffindors. Malfoy was right: she wanted fairness, but could not care less whether Slytherins were afforded that fairness or not. She had judged Tristane as well, the moment Hermione found out the girl was a Black.

"Well, to be fair, your House wanted to give up Harry to Voldemort," she tried to defend herself.

Malfoy snorted.

"For your information, not all of us were the Dark Lord's willing followers. It was Pansy who made that suggestion, and even then it was not because she hated Potter and loved the Dark Lord. For all your brilliance, you seemed to be quite stupid."

Hermione flashed him an angry look.

"It's true, Granger. Most of Pansy's family sided with the Dark Lord. Her father was a Death Eater, as was expected of him. She grew up in a household who knew firsthand the cruelty the Dark Lord could inflict. Who do you think she feared most - the Dark Lord, a proven powerful wizard, or Potter, a teenage boy who could pass his exams thanks to you? Dumbledore was already dead, what makes you think any of us, who intimately knew the Dark Lord's cruelty, would even think that Potter could somehow defeat a powerful dark wizard?"

Hermione stopped to think for a moment. What Malfoy said made sense.

"Look Malfoy, I'm sorry if I had been unfair and judgmental to you and your housemates," she took a deep breath. She may regret this one day, but she did not want to dwell on that thought. A wrong must be righted. "I would like to get to know you better, so that I can make proper judgment." She cringed. That was not what she wanted to say, but she did not think that she would want to offer friendship either.

Malfoy eyed her carefully.

"Well, I think Tristane's idea has its merits. I propose that we start a new leaf and get to know each other better so that we can make proper insults and judgment. I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy."

Hermione was surprised to see Malfoy's hand, offered to her in a gesture of…friendship? She hesitated but shook it.

"I'm Hermione Granger. Nice to meet you."

Malfoy smirked.

"So Hermione, pray tell, what's your favourite colour?"

Hermione smacked his hand and giggled.

"We may be starting a new leaf, but there's no way I'm gonna make your life easy, blond boy. Figure it out yourself."

Malfoy - no, Draco - chuckled. There was warmth in his silvery grey eyes. How could she not notice that his eyes were more silver instead of dull grey? She wondered how those eyes would look like when they reflected the moon's gentle light. Suddenly she felt flustered, and she started her Advanced Transfiguration essay. She would not let Draco get a better mark.


	6. Chapter 6

_**I am sad to hear an amazing actor that brought many characters to life had passed away. RIP Alan Rickman. *raises wand***_

 _ **As always, the Harry Potter world is owned by JK Rowlings. Tristane is mine, however.**_

 _ **I hope you enjoy the story.**_

* * *

 **Chapter 6**

The loud growl in Ginny's stomach signaled that it was time for dinner. True, she had cleaned the box containing Narcissa Malfoy's cookies (Tristane only ate two) but the Gryffindor was still hungry. Seeing Tristane trying to hold her laughter, Ginny knew the other witch heard the growl. The redhead's face slowly matched the colour of her hair.

"Um, I'm hungry," Ginny pointed out the obvious.

"Let's head down to dinner, shall we?"

Ginny would never consider turning down that invitation. Saying 'no' to food was sacrilegious. She half-dragged Tristane to the Hall and was silently cursing the distance between the Heads' Quarters and the Hall. She felt she needed to raise the issue with McGonagall one day. The distance was dangerous - precious Head Boys and Head Girls could starve to death before reaching the Hall.

It was still in early for dinner, and there were only a handful of students in the Hall, mostly the younger ones who needed to sleep early. Fourth Years and above were absent, making Ginny and Tristane to be the only older students. Ginny was rather glad they came early - the Bodyguards were not around to whisk Tristane away. She could monopolise the Slytherin's time and try to get more information.

Without really thinking of her actions, Ginny brought Tristane to the Gryffindor's table and started eating. She ignored the silence and stares directed at them, blissfully happy that the menu for today consisted of her favourite foods. The universe favoured her for once. She could feel that Tristane was slightly uncomfortable with the attention, and the redhead heaped piles of food on the Slytherin's plate before Tristane could protest. The Slytherin just stared at the plate in front of her, shrugged, and started to eat.

Ginny hungrily ate her food, minding her manners while devouring it. She glanced at Tristane and wanted to laugh when the Slytherin took small bites _. It will take you a long time to finish that mountain of food, missy_ , Ginny thought to herself.

Ten minutes had not even gone when Tristane started coughing madly.

"Tristane? Are you alright?"

Tristane was clutching her stomach with one hand and covering her mouth with the other. Ginny could see the Slytherin was in pain, and that there was a trickle of blood seeping from her mouth. The redhead swore and sprung to action. She half-carried the taller girl and yelled at the stunned incoming students to make way. Being an athlete, Ginny had no problem getting Tristane to the Hospital Wing quickly.

"Tristane, don't pass out on me, we're nearly there," she urged the Slytherin who had been coughing non-stop.

"Madam Pomfrey, I need your help!" Ginny yelled once they reached the Hospital Wing. "MADAM POMFREY!"

The Mediwitch appeared, a huge disapproval displayed on her face.

"Miss Weasley, there is no need to shout," she reprimanded the Gryffindor. Madam Pomfrey was going to continue her lecture but stopped when she saw Tristane who was now half-covered in blood.

"Help me to get her on this bed, Miss Weasley," Madam Pomfrey's tone abruptly changed, taking charge of the situation.

"I swear, I thought with Mr. Potter out of the way, this year will be a peaceful year for me. But no! It's just the second week and I already have a patient."

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"I know you missed Harry last year, Madam Pomfrey, so I thought I should bring you a gift to cheer you up."

"Don't get sarcastic with me, Miss Weasley. Tell me what happened."

Madam Pomfrey casted a diagnostic spell over Tristane, worried with the amount of blood still coming flowing out.

"We were just having dinner and she suddenly coughed blood. I swear I have no idea what happened!"

The Mediwitch nodded and made a shooing motion at Ginny.

"Please wait outside, Miss Weasley."

Ginny looked at the terrified Slytherin and squeezed her hand in assurance.

"Madam Pomfrey is the best, she'll fix you in no time. I'll just be outside, alright?"

Ginny ducked out without waiting for Tristane's acknowledgement, not wanting to face the Mediwitch's wrath. She leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. It was then she realised her hands were shaking. _It must've been adrenaline_ , she mused to herself. Half of her clothes were covered in Tristane's blood, her crimson Gryffindor colours helped to mask it.

The Hospital Wing was quiet, as if there was nobody there. Ginny guessed that Madam Pomfrey must have casted a silencing charm while she worked on Tristane. The redhead hoped that it was not so bad, that maybe Tristane was just having an allergic reaction to some food.

She heard yelling and commotion coming nearer and thought she recognised the voices. True enough, Draco and Hermione burst into the Hospital Wing. Draco looked around wildly and, once spotted Ginny, pounced on her.

"What did you do, Weasley? What did you do to her? What the hell were you doing?"

Ginny was shocked at the suddenness of it. She shoved Draco away.

"What the hell, Malfoy! I didn't do anything! Are you mental?"

Draco seemed not to hear her and ran to where Tristane and Madam Pomfrey were, the only bed having curtain drawn. He was thrown out by the Mediwitch as well.

"Weasley, she's covered in blood. What the fuck happened?"

Draco seemed distraught. Hermione hugged Ginny, worry written all over the brunette's face.

"Gin, are you alright? You're covered in blood too."

Ginny took a breath.

"I'm fine, 'Mione," she said shakily. "We were just starting to have dinner and she suddenly coughed blood. I don't know what happened. It was so sudden."

Draco froze.

"You had dinner in the Hall?" he whispered. His eyes were wide.

"Yeah, we were hungry so we had dinner. Why? What's wrong?"

"Were there anyone else with the both of you?"

"Of course, Malfoy. It's dinner time. Most of the younger students were there already. And a couple of teachers."

Hermione frowned. "Draco, are you suggesting…?"

"I'm not merely suggesting anything, Hermione. I _know_ so."

Ginny found that weird. Why were the two of them on a first name basis?

Just then the door to the Hospital Wing slammed open again. Blaise and Daphne went quickly to Draco, huffing and puffing. It was obvious they had been running.

"Drake, what happened? We heard Tristane is injured, so we came here quickly."

Draco grabbed Blaise by the collar and shoved the dark-skinned boy to the wall.

"Where the fuck were you, Blaise? She was alone in the Great Hall!"

"Hey, I was with her," Ginny protested.

"Shut up, Weaslette, this does not concern you. Blaise, Daphne, where the fuck were you? Haven't I told you to never leave her alone?"

"Look, Draco, I'm sorry we were not there, but we weren't expecting her to be there in the first place," Blaise argued, trying to extricate himself from Draco. "We were in the common room, waiting for you to return with her as usual. How were we supposed to know that the schedule has changed?"

Daphne put a hand on Draco's shoulder.

"Draco, this is nobody's fault," her voice was firm. "Blaming each other would serve no purpose. We must look forward and plan accordingly."

Draco took a deep breath. He knew his friends were right. He did not like it though. He released his grip on Blaise and massaged his temple.

"Weasley, you were there, weren't you?" Blaise turned his attention to Ginny. Seeing her nod, he continued, "Tell us what happened exactly."

"As I said before, I don't know. We were just starting to eat and she suddenly coughed blood."

Ginny felt guilty and secretly blamed herself.

"Do you remember who else were there? Any suspicious person? Any suspicious behaviour?" Blaise pressed.

The redhead shook her head.

"There were just the younger students and a couple of teachers. What's going on?"

"None of your business, Weaslette," Draco interjected roughly.

"Draco, in case you have not noticed, neither Ginny nor I have any malicious intention toward your cousin," Hermione shot the Head Boy an annoyed look. "If we have no idea what is going on, whatever this thing is will repeat itself when she hangs out with us because we don't know what we're supposed to protect her from. Tristane is our friend, so there's a high probability she will spend more time with us."

 _A friend for the time being until we uncover her secrets_ , Ginny added silently.

Hermione's words were not lost on Blaise and Daphne.

"Drake, what is _really_ going on?" Blaise asked. "Why is Granger here on a first name basis with you? How in the world is Tristane their friend? And why the hell did you even let Weasley alone with Tristane without cautioning her?"

All four looked at Draco expectantly. The blonde swore. He casted _Muffliato_ around them, preventing any eavesdropper access.

"It's a long story but now Hermione and I are spending at least four hours daily to know each other." He held up his hand, "No, Blaise, we're not dating. It's Tristane's request. Apparently I am not allowed to insult someone that I don't know well. A word of advice, if you wanna insult someone in front of my cousin, make sure you know the person's favourite colour."

Both Blaise and Daphne were confused by this, while the Gryffindors giggled.

"Tristane seems to take a liking to these two Gryffindors here, so they're friends now or something. She lets them eat my mother's cookies."

At this, Blaise and Daphne's eyes bulged. Ginny sniggered. She felt proud that she was one of the few (well, one of the two) non-Slytherins to have tasted Narcissa Malfoy's delicious cookies.

"I don't understand it either, but whatever. Anyway, Weasley, just so you know, we Slytherins have been scanning Tristane's mails, checking her food, and protecting her from hexes. She doesn't know any of it, she thinks we're just a bunch of clingy housemates and I'm just an overprotective cousin. Unfortunately, she still gets injured somehow."

"Wait what? Why would someone wants to hurt her?" Ginny's mind was in overdrive, already listing out possible crimes the injured Slytherin might have committed to warrant such retaliation.

"She's a Black and she's a Slytherin, Weasley," Daphne answered for Draco. "To people, that's more than enough reason."

Ginny frowned.

"Draco, I know what you've said before, but there's no way another student, especially the younger ones, would do such thing," Hermione reasoned.

Draco shook his head stubbornly.

"No, Hermione, you're wrong. The fact that she's injured proves that."

"How about the Slytherins?"

The three Slytherins glared angrily at Ginny.

"While still in Hogwarts, we do not hurt one of our own," Blaise answered harshly. "If we have any differences, we settle it between ourselves in our dorm. We do not do this kind of thing to another Slytherin, especially to new ones. Don't you even dare suggest one of us as the perpetrator. The Dark Lord may be vanquished, but the Black family still has high standing. No Slytherin would be foolish enough to start a war with the Black house, especially when Tristane is backed by many other prominent families."

"Look, Ginny's just trying to cover all angles, don't get mad at her," Hermione defended her friend.

It was then Draco noticed Madam Pomfrey had stepped out. He rushed to the Mediwitch, demanding answers. The rest followed him in a hurry.

"Ms. Black ingested a large amount of Purging Potion, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco's face turned white. A Purging Potion was used to detoxify the body, commonly used to treat alcoholics. A small amount, the size of a teaspoon, was the maximum an average adult's body could take. Anything more than that could be life-threatening, as the potion would purge not only impurities, but the blood as well. There was a reason why the said potion was a controlled substance.

"I've purged the Purging Potion, Mr. Malfoy, and I have replenished her blood. She just needs some rest now. While I loathe to leave the Hospital Wing, I feel this is an urgent case and requires me to speak with the Headmistress immediately. I trust you Heads and Prefects to not cause a ruckus," Madam Pomfrey gave a sharp look at Draco, Hermione, Blaise, and Daphne. Ginny realised she was the only non-Prefect.

The Mediwitch left them and went to look for McGonagall. Ginny assumed there would be a formal investigation, judging from Madam Pomfrey's reaction.

The five gathered around Tristane's bed. The injured Slytherin looked tired, but she slept peacefully. Daphne gasped at the sight of Tristane's bloodied uniform. Draco sat beside his cousin, holding her hand. Ginny noted how worried he was, and wondered idly where did the annoying Slytherin Prince disappeared to.

"When she wakes up, tell her nothing," Draco instructed. "Just tell her it's a prank gone wrong, alright? I don't want her to worry unnecessarily.

The other four glanced at each other, then nodded their agreement hesitantly. Ginny did not like to lie, but she could understand not wanting to frighten and upset someone.

They managed to keep Tristane ignorant about the truth behind the incident. Hermione persuaded McGonagall that it would help their mission if the Headmistress investigated the incident quietly. Between Draco, Blaise, Daphne, Hermione, and Ginny, they agreed that Tristane should not eat her meals at the Hall anymore. Theodore and Pansy were informed of the new arrangement but they did not ask questions. The five Slytherins and two Gryffindors arranged a schedule ensuring that Tristane would never be alone. Draco, in his paranoia, insisted to prepare Tristane's meals himself. He olwed his mother to send a set of kitchen utensils, which the Malfoy matriarch complied. The two Gryffindors never ceased to be amused seeing Draco cooking daily. Tristane, unaware of her cousin's paranoia, was happy to eat at the Head's Quarters every single meal, sharing food with her seven bodyguards. Ginny had started to call Tristane as "Captain" and the rest as "Pirates", which the one-eyed witch seemed to like.

Due to their school schedule, it seemed that Ginny and Daphne were the ones spending the most time with Tristane outside of classes. Hermione, on the other hand, found herself spending too much private time with Draco, mostly in the library. The remained civil toward each other, and Hermione made sure she did not give away hints for her favourite colour. Draco would ask her daily for that question, which Hermione never deigned to answer.

One morning, Hermione was awoken by a rather loud crash on her bedroom floor. Startled, she grabbed her wand which was hidden under her pillow, rolled to her side, and pointed her wand to the direction of the crash.

From the other side of her bed, there was a groan and a string of expletives.

"Ginny?"

The Gryffindor in question, still groaning in pain, raised her head. Hermione was surprised to see her friend.

"What are you doing here?"

The Head Girl slowly approached Ginny, wand still not lowered.

"Fuck, your bedroom floor hurts, 'Mione," Ginny complained. She then noticed the wand pointed at her.

"Whoa, wow! I didn't mean to frighten you, 'Mione."

Hermione decided Ginny was not a threat. She lowered her wand.

"Explain yourself."

Ginny looked sheepish.

"Well, I wanted to give you a surprise. So I flew here. Happy birthday, 'Mione."

"Ginevra, you know the password to my room. Why the hell did you fly and risk yourself?" Hermione's calm tone indicated she was really mad at her friend.

Ginny cringed.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione. I just thought it was a good idea. I was practicing this morning, so I thought why don't I drop by for a bit before I continue my practice. Don't get angry at me, please?"

Hermione could feel her head started to throb. Damn Weasleys for their recklessness.

"Alright, alright, but don't do that ever again, you hear me?"

Ginny just nodded. She gave the Head Girl a box.

"Here's your present, birthday girl. I hope you like it."

Hermione unwrapped it, squealed, and hugged Ginny tightly. The redhead laughed.

"Thank you so much, Gin! I love it!"

Ginny had given her the latest edition of _Hogwarts: A History_.

"Don't start reading it now, alright?" the redhead warned. "There's more."

Ginny threw a robe over Hermione and dragged the latter out of her bedroom, ignoring her protests. In the Heads' Common, the Captain and her Pirates were waiting. Hermione suddenly blushed and felt self-conscious, wishing Ginny would at least let her change clothes before insisting to drag her out. Tristane rose from the couch and hugged Hermione.

"Happy birthday, Hermione!" the one-eyed witch beamed happily, pushing Hermione to sit on the couch.

There were breakfast food on the small coffee table, which Draco cooked. There was even a magnificent chocolate cake with a candle on it.

"Um, thank you guys, but you don't have to do this." Hermione was touched.

The Slytherins, minus Tristane, rolled their collective eyes.

"We don't really want to do this, but Tristane threatened us. So here we are, Granger," Theodore answered.

"Yeah, she even dragged me away from my beauty sleep," grumbled Pansy.

Hermione smiled gratefully. There was no malice there.

"You better be happy today, Hermione, my mother baked this cake," Draco added.

Hermione was surprised.

"Uh, did you threaten Narcissa, Captain?" Ginny asked.

Tristane giggled.

"No, I was just asking nicely," the one-eyed witch said innocently. Somehow, Ginny doubted her words.

"Oh, just blow the candle already Granger, I wanna go back to my bed." Pansy looked real cranky. Hermione wondered what kind of threats Tristane made and thought it was sweet of her.

Draco and Blaise held the cake for Hermione to blow. The Head Girl closed her eyes and made a wish, then blew the candle. It felt weird, celebrating her birthday with a group of Slytherins, most of them had been her enemies for as long as she could remember. Tristane gave Hermione a parcel.

"Open your present."

Hermione was surprised again. She felt her eyes tearing up.

"Merlin, she's gonna cry," Blaise was dismayed.

"I'm just sleepy, you git. It's too early," the Head Girl muttered, wiping her eyes.

She took the present from Tristane and opened it. Inside was a simple jade necklace. Hermione stared at it.

"Um, I wasn't sure what to get you," Tristane fidgeted nervously. "I thought it would look good on you."

The Head Girl was speechless.

"Tristane, I can't. This is too expensive."

"Hermione, I'm not in the mood to explain the intricacies of pureblood gift giving, but just be polite and take it," Draco intervened.

Hermione looked at the worried Tristane and decided to hug the girl. She could argue about it later on with Draco.

"Thank you, Tristane, it's beautiful."

It seemed that Tristane was not the only Slytherin bringing gift - everybody else gave Hermione a present, making the brunette wondered whether she had somehow died in her sleep and now went to heaven. Draco gave her a set of diamond-studded quills; Blaise, a painting of a group of unicorns drinking at a lake with monkeys dancing nearby (this gift confused Hermione); Daphne, a beautiful black dress; Pansy, a set of lingerie that Hermione wished she did not open in front of the group; Theodore, a bottle of perfume.

While the Head Girl was busy opening her gifts, Ginny took it upon herself to cut and distribute the cake. She could not wait to taste the magnificent cake.

"Malfoy, your mother really knows how to bake," Ginny was in heaven. It was Hermione's birthday, yes, but nobody can deny the redhead her cakes.

"Merlin Weasley, can't you wait for a couple more minutes?" Draco was amused.

The day went peacefully for Hermione. She had a sugar-filled breakfast (they had forced her to eat two slices of the cake and some of Narcissa's cookies), a birthday letter from her parents, no incidents requiring her presence as Head Girl, and somehow stress-free classes. In the evening, while doing homework with Draco as per usual, she had just realised that none of her other friends, especially Harry and Ron, had wished her a happy birthday.


	7. Chapter 7

_**How was your week? Mine has been quite eventful and I am so glad it is finally Fri-yay, plus it's a long weekend here (double yay). Due to the double yay, I have decided to post not one, but two chapters. I hope all of you have a nice weekend and do enjoy reading.**_

 ** _Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling._**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven**

The morning was uncharacteristically cold, for a September. It was also rather foggy. But no weather may deny the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain of her daily practice, rain or shine. Although at this moment, Ginny would rather stay in bed. But, considering the tryout session was due at the end of September, and she did not want to lose her place in the team regardless of her captaincy, the redhead coaxed and argued with herself to get her butt down to the Quidditch pitch.

The four Quidditch Captains were initially furious when McGonagall forbade them from holding the tryouts earlier. However, once the Headmistress explained that during the previous year Quidditch was quite…disastrous, and a lot of students were absent from school and went into hiding, she wanted to give everybody extra time to adjust to school life before re-starting the Quidditch season again. Although Ginny could see her point, that did not mean the redhead had to be happy about it. She missed playing the game so much and could not wait to play again. McGonagall also promised there would be some changes to the matches, which worried the Captains. However, the Headmistress would not divulge them any information until the first week of October, when the teams had been formed. To Ginny, it sounded ominous.

She shook her head, clearing her mind from such worries. She glanced up at the sky and noted the speed at which the clouds were moving. The wind would pose a challenge today. Ginny took a deep breath and jogged around the pitch. Her mind was filled with plans and strategies for the upcoming season. The redhead was most worried about practice: should she continue what her predecessors had done, or should she create her own regime from scratch? She was well aware that the past six years, having Harry and her twin brothers in the team contributed greatly to Gryffindor's victories. For this year, she had no idea whether she would get gems. She supposed she could always be the Seeker if there was no competent one turning up, but if she was the only excellent one in the team, she would face an extremely difficult year ahead. The pressures of getting the Snitch before the other team starts scoring would get to her. She fervently hoped that she would get at least a couple of prodigies. Having no proper matches for the past year had left many Gryffindors rusty.

But what if she got a terrible team? What would she do then? Surely her predecessors' methods would not be that effective. Ginny briefly considered asking Hermione for advice before she shook away that thought. What would Hermione know anything about sports? The Head Girl could even barely fly. Ginny despaired. She did not want to be known as the Captain Who Failed. That would not be helpful when she applied for the Harpies later.

The fog had cleared a little and Ginny decided she should practice her flying maneuvers. She mounted her Firebolt - well, not hers technically. Harry had insisted to lend it to her before he went for his Auror training, asking her to win the Cup for him, since he would not be returning to Hogwarts. She had refused, but Harry pointed out to her that without the Firebolt _and_ Harry, the Gryffindor team would be at a huge disadvantage. He begged her until she got irritated and finally relented. Ginny grudgingly admitted that Harry did have a point. They could not lose, especially to the Slytherins who were backed by rich parents.

During the summer, Ginny had practiced maneuvers for Chasers, Seekers, and Keepers. She felt that she needed to at least have a basic understanding of playing for each position to be able to be a good captain. She wished George was there too, so that she could learn a thing or two from him. But she knew her brother was still grieving for his twin, so she did not disturb George. She idly wondered whether there were any books teaching about Beater moves, and decided to ask Hermione for help. When it came to books, Hermione was the sniffing hound you would want.

Ginny decided to practice the Wronski Feint maneuver from different height levels. While the move would not serve any purpose for a Chaser, she believed it improved her agility, especially to avoid Bludgers. She started from ten meters and worked her way up, adding ten meters for each attempt. When she was at fifty meters, she decided to increase her speed, zooming downwards.

"That's so cool!"

Ginny nearly lost her concentration but managed to avoid slamming to the ground. She returned to a normal flight level, looking around for the source of the voice. She then spotted a certain one-eyed pirate, grinning and waving madly from the stands.

"Captain Hook!"

Ginny flew to the Slytherin, unsure whether to yell or to be happy with the interruption.

"What're you doing out here, missy?"

Tristane's smile faltered.

"Uh, am I disturbing you, Gin?"

Ginny decided that a break was in order anyway.

"Nah, I'm just surprised. Wasn't expecting you here. Is Malfoy here as well?"

Tristane suddenly shifted nervously.

"Um, no. He's not. I'm alone here. Well, not alone cause you're obviously here too." Seeing the annoyed look on Ginny's face, Tristane hastily added, "Look, Gin, please don't get mad at me. I just needed some space. I've been here for three weeks but the only time I have to myself is whenever I go to the bathroom! I know you guys mean well and don't want me to get lost and stuff, but I need my own space as well."

Ginny sighed. None of them had told Tristane what really happened and why they were being overly protective of the Slytherin, not wanting to frighten her unnecessarily.

"How did you manage to shake the dogs off anyway?" Ginny was still hovering in the air.

Tristane grinned mischievously, making her looked like she _was_ a Slytherin.

"The only roommate who is a light sleeper is Daphne, and she was taking her time in the loo. So I thought I'd take the chance to sneak out. I tend to close the curtains around my bed when I sleep, so I guess they won't notice I'm missing till I'm back."

Ginny laughed at that. She could imagine the whole Slytherin House in panic mode, turning the castle upside down to find their princess.

"Well, as you said, you're not alone now, so no harm done. But why did you come here to the pitch?"

"It's a random thing, really. But when I saw you swooping down repeatedly, I thought it was cool, so I came nearer to see better. I have only one eye, you see, so I can't really see properly."

"Have you flown before?"

Tristane shook her head.

"Fly with me."

Tristane looked a bit uncertain, but she let Ginny helped her mount the broom, sitting in front of the redhead.

"I'm a good flyer, so I won't let you fall," Ginny assured her.

Tristane gave a tiny nod but Ginny, sitting behind, could not see it. Without warning, Ginny directed the Firebolt up high, angle so steep that Tristane started praying to all deities she knew. They were on top of the tallest Hogwarts tower when Ginny decided to level the broom. The redhead then realised Tristane was shaking.

"Merlin, I'm so sorry, Tris! I just wanted to get us up in the sky quickly, didn't mean to frighten you."

"I'm o-o-o-kkkay, G-g-ginnn."

Ginny noticed that the Slytherin was only wearing a jumper, which was not warm enough for morning flights. The redhead took off her Quidditch robe and draped it around the shivering witch. Ginny inched forward, closing the distance they had. She wrapped an arm around Tristane' waist, and the other hand held the broom firmly.

"To keep you warm," she murmured next to Tristane's ear. The Slytherin just nodded, but her shivering lessened.

Ginny directed the Firebolt to move forward at a lazy pace. They flew over the castle and around the school grounds, watching its inhabitants rising to greet a new day. Ginny flew them alongside several incoming owls, and Tristane tried to chat the birds up. The owls mostly ignored them, although there was one irritated fowl that attempted to peck them. Ginny swore at the bird and changed direction, deciding the owls were not worth it.

Ginny had no idea how long they spent flying, but she knew there would be no practice for her today. She did not mind, though. She felt at ease and, for the first time since Voldemort attacked the Burrow for Fleur and Bill's wedding, she felt happy.

* * *

If the previous day had been a good day for Hermione, the day after her birthday was the exact opposite. It started with the Pirates dragging her out of her bed to search for a missing Tristane Black, who in turn, happened to be perfectly safe and secure flying with Ginny. That resulted in a yelling match between everybody involved (mainly Draco, Hermione, Tristane, and Ginny) until Professor Flitwick scolded them. He took points off from Gryffindor and Slytherin, to Hermione's eternal embarrassment. She was the Head Girl, dammit! How could she lose house points? She was mad at the Slytherins and Ginny for that.

She refused to speak with Tristane in class aside from what was necessary ('slice this warthog brain'), and ignored Tristane's attempts to apologise. Hermione took her meals at the Hall that day and avoided the Pirates as much as possible. She even managed to dodged Ginny, which was quite a feat for the definitely not athletic bookworm.

To make matters worse, neither Harry nor Ron seemed to remember her birthday. Hermione wrote weekly letters to Harry (not Ron - she was still furious with him), but had gotten no replies. At first she chalked it up to Harry being busy with Auror training. But when there was no birthday wish even to the day _after_ her birthday, Hermione knew she must have done something so bad. Why must the Trio have a falling out every single year? Even during the War, they managed to bicker. Sometimes she wondered what kind of friendship they had.

She hid in the library, deciding to forgo dinner. She was, after all, not hungry. She was deep in her History of Magic essay when someone sat next to her, bumping her hand in the process. There was a long line across her neat essay. Hermione turned to that person.

"You git, see what you've done!" she hissed at a smirking blond.

"Oh come off it, Hermione, you're too tense," Draco drawled.

"Why are you here?"

"I still have three hours left in my quota for the day. Can't miss it, baby." He took out a book and began to read.

Hermione snatched the book away.

"Tell your cousin that you have filled that quota for today. Go away!"

Draco gently pried the book from the brunette's hands.

"No can do, Hermione. Imagine the scandal if people notice you're alone here without me."

Hermione blushed at that. There were rumours circulating the student body that the two Heads were dating. Some said that Draco had laced Hermione's food with Love Potion; others claimed that they had always been star-crossed lovers but had to hide their true feelings (Hermione suspected Shakespeare had something to do with that one). A few came up with a nasty theory speculating that with Voldemort gone, the Malfoys needed good publicity while Hermione was tired of life and wanted an easy life, so they exchanged services. A few Slytherins made it a point to irritate Hermione (she assumed they were Draco's fans). Fortunately, since they thought the two were currently dating, none of the Slytherins dared to raise a wand against her. They only bitched and gossiped about her.

"News of our 'breakup' won't be a scandal, Draco," she replied coolly.

"Well, at least your friends will be happy," he remarked.

Hermione frowned. For some unknown reason, the only person who had been friendly with her was Neville. He had come to her one day after Herbology and quietly told her that regardless of her choice, he would support her to the end. Hermione had been touched by his gesture and was glad at least there was one person who let her be herself, even if the rumours were untrue. She felt hurt that even with her sacrifices during the War, people were still judgmental toward her.

"Friends would be there for their friends no matter what happens," she snapped.

Draco took a long, hard look at her.

"I take it that neither Potter nor Weasel King are happy with your 'newfound happiness'?"

Hermione sighed and leaned back.

"I haven't heard from them at all. If they have heard us 'dating', I'm pretty sure they'd be barging through the door and hexing you to oblivion."

Draco opened his book and started flipping the pages slowly.

"Funny, isn't it, that we Slytherins were condemned for being judgmental toward non-purebloods, yet nobody says anything about Gryffindors being judgmental toward you, the Head Girl, war hero, instrumental in Voldemort's downfall, and brightest witch of your age? They don't even try to find out whether the rumours are true."

Hermione massaged her temple. She would need to go to Madam Pomfrey's for her headache.

"Not this again, Draco," she groaned. "I get it, everyone are prejudiced to something. Nobody is purely good, and nobody is purely bad. Can we not do this right now?"

Draco shrugged. "Just saying."

Hermione then noticed the book he was holding seemed to be familiar.

"Why are you reading Hamlet? Since when does Draco Malfoy reads Muggle literature?"

Draco shot her a dark look.

"Tristane gave this book to me," he muttered. "I can't possibly tell her I've read it when I don't. I won't be able to answer her questions."

Hermione giggled.

"The great Draco Malfoy can't say no to a harmless girl?"

The giggles turned to laughter.

"Careful, Hermione, I may actually lace your food with Love Potion and make the rumours true."

Hermione stifled her laughter.

"Alright, alright. I'll stop laughing at you. Is she that important to you?"

"She's family, Hermione. Of course she is."

Draco looked at her as if her intelligence was decreasing.

"Well, Professor Tonks is your aunt but you won't even chat with her."

Draco turned a page.

"She's not my family anymore, Hermione. If my mother reconciles with her, then I will change my stance. Tristane is like my sister."

Hermione looked at him curiously.

"Have you known her for a long time? I mean, the Wizarding world just found out this summer."

Draco turned to another page.

"I found out this summer as well."

"That's not a long time at all. Why are you so protective of her? I mean, I get it, she could be in danger, but what you're doing is more than protecting her. You guys are very close."

Draco was silent for a moment.

"What is your point, Hermione?"

"Just saying, Draco, just saying."

She returned to her essay but her mind was on Tristane. The Black Heiress and Draco had just known each other for a couple of months, but he had been acting like an overzealous brother. Hermione had assumed that Tristane's existence was a well-kept secret and that Draco had known her for a long time. The Head Girl found it interesting and would share this bit of information with Ginny. Perhaps the redhead could use it to dig more information from the one-eyed witch.


	8. Chapter 8

_**JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. Tristane is mine though.**_

 ** _I hope you enjoy the story._**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

The atmosphere at Hogwarts changed. There was a general mixture of excitement and tension, as Quidditch tryout announcements were being plastered all over the school. For the first time in the school's history, the Headmistress announced that the Quidditch tryout for the four house teams would be held at the same day and same time at the Quidditch pitch. That caused an uproar. McGonagall refused to budge, reasoning that with the tryouts for the four houses being held at the same time, chances for each house to get into trouble of spying each other would be drastically reduced, as each team would be focused on their own selection instead.

That was why Hermione found herself sitting on the stands with the rest of the school. Ginny had flown into her room before the dawn broke (Hermione hoped it would not be a regular occurrence) and unceremoniously dragged the Head Girl out of the bed. Hermione had only managed to grab her jeans and a sweater before she had to cling for dear life when Ginny dumped her on the broom before speeding off to the pitch. Hermione was sure she looked like a banshee and did not even want to think how messy her bushy hair was. She could only sigh as she watched the proceedings below. She could not understand why she must be present at the tryout, considering she had no love for the game and Ginny was busy doing whatever captains were supposed to do anyway.

Someone dropped on the seat to her right, causing the bench to shake slightly. Hermione groaned, wishing for people to just leave her alone. That was the reason for her choosing the furthest bench from the pitch. She did not even have her books to distract her mind. Knowing how Quidditch-obsessed the whole school was, it would take hours before she could peacefully return to her bed.

"You look dazzling and brighter than sunshine."

Hermione sighed. Tristane sounded more and more like her annoying cousin with each passing day.

"Speak for yourself, Pirate," the brunette grumbled.

"I've never been to any tryouts before," Tristane said conversationally. "Plus, I don't have any choice anyway. All of my babysitters intend to try to get on the team."

Down at the pitch was a mess of colours. With red at the left, green at the right, and blue and yellow in between, it somewhat resembled a festival of sorts. Only the first years and a handful of older students sat in the stands. Most of the student body were at the pitch, taking their turns to showcase their abilities to their respective team captains.

"With that noise, it's a miracle the dead hasn't risen yet," Hermione grumbled. She then turned to look at Tristane. The Slytherin, unlike Hermione, looked fresh and ready for the day. The brunette was envious that the Pirates were thoughtful enough to give Tristane time to get ready.

"Do they know you're here with me?"

The Slytherin shrugged.

"They're pretty much focused on Quidditch, Hermione. I'm not sneaking away from the pitch anyway, I'm still here. Just at a different seat from where I was an hour ago," she grinned at the Head Girl.

Hermione sighed.

"As long as they won't launch another panic-fuelled search. You know, Tris, I was looking forward to a peaceful year with Harry, the magnet for trouble, gone from Hogwarts. The gods must have hated me because you're sent to replace him," she told the one-eyed witch with a serious face, but her eyes were full of laughter.

Tristane was embarrassed.

"Oh gods, don't remind me please, Hermione," she groaned. The story of Slytherins panicking and went on a hunt for her spread to the whole school and now people would teasingly ask her 'Does Malfoy know you're here?' whenever she walked around without Draco next to her. Well, a few asked her teasingly. Many asked with malice in their voice.

"So Tristane, you must've been close with Draco since childhood, huh?" Hermione tried to keep her voice sounded casual, not prying.

"I wish, Hermione, I wish." The Slytherin leaned back, eyes watching the figures below darting around the posts. Keepers were being selected. "I never knew I had family other than my father until a few months ago. I grew up with my dad and he passed away in June. He told me to return to England and go to my Aunt's."

Hermione could feel her heart beating faster. Was Tristane lying? If it was true, was it a coincidence? With Voldemort recently gone, and Tristane's father supposedly died not long after, Tristane's timely appearance was highly suspicious.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Tristane," Hermione tried to sound as genuine as possible. Part of her sympathised with the girl, but part of her was cautious. "I don't mean to pry, but what did he die of?"

Tristane shrugged. "Sickness. Sorry, Hermione, I really don't wanna talk about his death."

The brunette nodded. Tristane looked so sad and a bit loss. If the Slytherin was lying, it was a convincing act.

"I understand, Tris," Hermione squeezed the other witch's arm, trying to show comfort. "So how do you find living with the Malfoys?"

The Slytherin cheered slightly with the topic change.

"They've been kind and nice to me. I know they're dark wizards and stuff, but they've never been evil or cruel to me. Except for Draco. He never lets me out of his sight, as you have seen. That's pretty cruel," she grumbled. "Aunt Cissa has been mothering me, as you can guess. She's been baking me cookies, which unfortunately I have only managed to eat a little, courtesy of Ginny. Not that I mind," she added hastily as Hermione chuckled. "I don't know about Uncle Lucius though. He's in jail, which I think you know." Hermione got a little bit uncomfortable with that. "I'm thankful to you though, Hermione. If it not were for you and Harry, Uncle Lucius would get a worse sentence. Honestly, I'm kind of sad for Aunt Cissa and Draco. They're both alone, with no other family to stand with them."

"Well, if Narcissa would reconcile with her sister, that wouldn't be a problem."

Tristane was surprised.

"But I thought Bellatrix Lestrange died?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"No, I'm not talking about that deranged lunatic. I'm talking about Andromeda."

"Andromeda Tonks? Our Potions professor? I thought she's just a distant relative by marriage or something?"

The Head Girl narrowed her eyes.

"Andromeda Tonks is Narcissa Malfoy's older sister. They were both Blacks before their respective marriages, Tristane. Andromeda Tonks is your direct aunt."

"Are you sure? Draco had never told me that. He only said that his mother has lost her only sister."

"I'm pretty sure, Tristane. You can ask him later on."

Tristane was silent. She was deep in thought. Hermione took the cue and reverted her gaze to the pitch below.

 _Either she is an amazing actress, or she truly has no clue about her family_ , Hermione thought to herself. _Something just doesn't add up, though. Why would Narcissa Malfoy welcomed her with open arms if they never knew of each other's existence until this summer? Why is Draco super clingy with Tristane? Who's Tristane father? And did he really die from some "sickness", as she puts it? This is one of the few things I can't refer to books, dammit_.

Hermione decided to changed topics to a more neutral ground, and they chatted about their schoolwork. To Hermione's surprise, Tristane had mastered several spells, and more surprisingly, Ginny had been the one teaching and encouraging the girl. The Head Girl could not imagine Ginny having the patience to teach. She decided to teach Tristane a couple more spells, curious to see the Slytherin's progress. The rest of their morning on the stands was spent discussing and learning spells.

The tryout was finally done by lunch time. Unsurprisingly, each captain declared those selected will be announced in their respective common rooms. Hermione rolled her eyes at this, grumbling that 'everybody will know who's in each team anyway, why bother to keep it a secret' which drew gasps from those nearby. The Head Girl knew that somehow, she managed to make a blasphemous comment. Tristane just giggled, not helping her cause at all.

Ginny had opted to go to the common room immediately for the announcement. Nearly all Gryffindors disappeared to their common room, leaving Hermione and a handful of Gryffindors at the Great Hall. The Head Girl preferred to eat, feeling that she had sacrificed enough of her day for such a useless activity. If she could be honest, she wanted to escape eating Draco's cooking. He could only cook breakfast foods and spaghetti. Hermione had had enough of those. While technically she was no required to eat with the Pirates, she did not want to pass the opportunity to be around Tristane, afraid that she would miss out on crucial information. She also suspected that the main reason for Ginny's willingness to eat Draco's food was Narcissa Malfoy's cookies.

For today, the house elves prepared pies and salad. Hermione was over the moon to finally eat something else aside from Draco's standard products. She hungrily gobbled two pies, which drew raised eyebrows on those who were observing her - she was not a small eater, but she did not have a Weasley's bottomless stomach either.

Satisfied with her meal, she trudged the halls and stairs leading to her quarters, absent-mindedly telling off misbehaving students on her way. She had planned on catching up on some studies and finishing some essays, but now it seemed she had to change her plans. She sighed, sometimes wondering whether her friends ever take into account her indifference to Quidditch before dragging her to Quidditch-related events.

There was a beautiful brown owl waiting for her in her room. Hermione did not recognise the owl - it was not a standard Hogwarts owl, and it definitely did not look like part of the Ministry's either. She frowned, hoping it was not a hate mail or some Death Eater in hiding trying to kill her. She mumbled a scanning spell, and, coming up negative, took the mail from the owl, who was giving her an undignified look. Hermione apologised to the bird and gave it some treats.

There was no writing on the envelope, giving no hints of the sender. One hand holding her wand ready, she opened the letter.

 _Hi Mione,_

 _How have you been doing?_

She recognised Harry's scrawl.

 _I'm so sorry I had not been replying your letters. Auror training is exhausting and I never managed to find the time and energy to give you a decent reply. I'm currently confined to a bed - yesterday we trainees were taught on how to handle and fight dragons. My sleeves got caught on fire and I somehow managed to break my left ankle. I should be fine by tomorrow. On the bright side, I now have the time to write you an overdue letter._

 _Happy belated birthday, by the way. I did not forget about that, but I just did not have the time to wish you and get you a present. I know, it's not an excuse, and I'm really sorry, Mione. We've been through a lot yet I could not spare five minutes to write you a simple letter. I'm so sorry._

 _Have you heard from Ron? He's mad at me at the moment. He had been mucking up in training and failing to achieve passing marks, so he quitted. It was a week ago. I heard that he's now helping in the joke shop, which is good for George. The poor bloke is still grieving for his twin, which is highly understandable. I hope Ron can hold his idiocy and support George._

 _Ron's mad at me for not quitting with him (he's just being irrational, don't yell at him for that). He's also mad at me because we heard through the grape vine that you're currently dating a certain Slytherin Prince. I told Ron that he has screwed up his chances and that you're perfectly within your rights to date whoever you want, including Argus Filch (but for all that is holy and good, please don't date Filch ugh). Ron blew up and started screaming about traitors, disloyalty, yada yada. You know, the usual stuff. I love him like a brother but he can be such a git sometimes. I told Ron that the only reason we won the war was because of you, Mione, and if you think you can trust Draco enough to date him, then we should trust him enough not to be a prat like he was. I know you won't take such decisions lightly, and if he makes you happy, then I am happy. But do let me know if he is being a git - I still want my chance to hex him._

 _If Ron's being mean to you, just ignore him, alright? He'll come round. Just give him time. He can be an idiot sometimes. But he's still our Ron._

 _I have applied for leave to meet you and Ginny in Hogsmeade during your first Hogsmeade weekend. My leave is approved, but only for three hours. Let's meet up at the Three Broomsticks at 11am, alright? I wanna give you're your birthday present (I know, it is very late and I'm so sorry). Drag Ginny off the pitch if you need to._

 _I hope to hear soon from you, Mione. Take care. Send my regards to Ginny._

 _All my love,_

 _Harry._

Harry's letter put a smile on Hermione's face. She still had her best friend, although it sounded as if Ron was currently not in any speaking mood with her. She sighed. Ron could be the most stubborn-headed mule when he wanted to. She wondered how would their relationship be like had they maintained it? Would it be a relationship filled with emotional roller-coaster and frequent breakups/makeups? That would be draining. Hermione was also irked that Ron felt it was his business to decide who she may or may not date. While she was definitely not dating Draco, she felt that Ron should be happy with whoever that makes her happy, even if it was Draco. If Harry, Draco's arch nemesis since day one, could be happy for her, why could Ron not be the same?

She decided not to waste more time and energy getting angry at her impossible best friend. She quickly wrote a reply to Harry and tied it to the waiting owl. She would need to ask Harry whether the owl was part of the Aurors' or Harry had bought a new one. That reminded her of Hedwig, and she was sad. She shook her head, clearing her mind of any and all sad things. She was not quite ready to face her demons - she wanted to take rest first. One day she would definitely face her demons like a true Gryffindor should. But that day was not today.

The class for Defense Against the Dark Arts for that day had been one of the easiest for the Gryffindors, Neville included. Fleur had tasked them to perform the Patronus charm, which, as it happened, had been mastered by the non-Slytherins in the class. Joining the Dumbledore's Army had proven to be useful time and time again. The Slytherins, as expected, struggled not because of lack of skills, but lack of happy memories. Hermione supposed that growing up being groomed as Voldemort's servants did not leave happy memories at all. She was curious why Tristane, who did not grow up in a dark environment, could not even produce the faintest Patronus. The one-eyed girl looked visibly drained by the end of the lesson, more exhausted than usual.

At the end of the lesson, Fleur asked Hermione and Ginny to stayed behind. Hermione's curiousity increased when Fleur asked them to follow her, not to her office, but to an abandoned classroom at the sixth floor, far from the path any student would take. Well, students who did not happen to search for secure locations for amourous activities.

The abandoned classroom was dusty and full of cobwebs. There were a few desks and a couple of unbroken chairs. Taking cue from Fleur, the Gryffindors swished their wands, cleaning the place.

"Professor Delacour, why are we here?" Hermione asked, coughing from the dust. Fleur had never changed her name. As with Veela traditions, Bill changed _his_ name instead and took Fleur's surname.

"It's Fleur, Hermione. We're not in class." Satisfied that their environment was cleaner, Fleur sat on one of the tables. Hermione opted for the chair, while Ginny copied Fleur.

"They should be here anytime soon."

"Who's coming?" it was Ginny who asked.

Fleur did not have to answer as the door opened. Their two guests had arrived. McGonagall took the chair and sat next to Hermione, while Andromeda, after locking the door behind her, sat on the table. She waved Hermione's offer to switch places.

"We should be able to talk here without interruptions or eavesdroppers. My office, while secure, unfortunately has too many ears," McGonagall explained cryptically.

Hermione frowned.

"Uh, Professor, wouldn't it be better having past Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts around?" the brunette was confused. She glanced at Ginny who was looking equally confused.

"While Albus's presence is certainly beneficial, I don't want to risk the Slytherin House finding out anything." McGonagall leaned back on her chair. "Phineas and Severus, especially. No matter what, Ms. Black is Phineas' descendant and Severus is overly protective of his Slytherins."

"Before the both of you share whatever you've found, let us start first," Andromeda took the lead. "The Ministry has confirmed that Ms. Black grew up with her father, Altair Black, in Australia." Seeing the panicked look on Hermione's face, Andromedia hastily added, "The Ministry is certain that your parents were never in contact nor ever in their radar, Hermione." The brunette calmed a little, though her face was still full of worry.

"Altair Black was the bastard son of Cygnus Black," Fleur took over. "For some unknown reason, Cygnus had a muggle mistress in Italy and she bore him a son. The Ministry is trying to track down this mistress as we speak. Altair Black, in his teenage years, ran away from home and ended up in Australia. Cygnus kept the whole affair a secret and never told a soul that he had a son. It could not be that he was ashamed of having a muggle mistress - the fact that he left a will with Gringgotts, declaring his son and his son's offspring as heirs to the Black family shows that he was, in fact, proud of his son."

"The question is, why did he keep Altair as a secret? Why did he chose a muggle for his mistress? How did he know Altair, or in this case, Altair's daughter, will return to England?" McGonagall softly spoke.

"Wait, was the muggle a witch?" Ginny asked.

McGonagall shook her head. "She was not a muggleborn, Ms. Weasley. She was a muggle."

Hermione and Ginny exchanged glances. That was a surprise to the both of them. The House of Black was famous for its staunch beliefs in blood purity.

"This keeps on adding more questions instead of answering anything," Hermione remarked.

"Indeed, Hermione," Fleur answered. "Let me ask you both a question: did you notice how exhausted Ms. Black was just now?"

Both students nodded their heads.

"She looked more tired than usual," Ginny observed. "I know that casting spells, for a beginner like her, takes a lot of energy. But just now, either the spell was too tiring, or something else happened. I mean, when I started learning to cast Patronus, it was tiring, but I did not feel half dead."

Fleur nodded. "That was because something else happened in the class. As you both are well aware, I am a Veela. We can manipulate emotions to a certain extent."

Both students nodded their heads again, to show they remembered.

"Now, over the years, I managed to control my thrall for a certain period of time - that's why boys could focus during classes, but they're still dazed outside of classes. It drains my energy too much if I exert control for a whole day. Anyway, just now in class, I set my thrall on Ms. Black. I was trying to see whether I could sense her emotions and get a clue or two."

"Then what happened?" Hermione asked, seeing Fleur stopped.

"At first, my thrall was working on her," Fleur said slowly. "I could sense that Ms. Black was focusing on the lesson at hand. But suddenly, my thrall was thrown back at me. I don't know how to properly explain this, but Ms. Black escaped from my thrall while both being aware and not being aware of it."

"Uh… what?" Ginny was confused.

"I mean," Fleur sounded frustrated, "Ms. Black had no idea I was setting my thrall. But at the same time, she knew what I was doing and threw my thrall back at me. I don't know how to explain it. But that's what happened. What's more, for a tiny moment, she felt really dark. I can't really explain it, and I'm not even sure what happened, but that's what happened."

The room's other four occupants looked worried.

"Dark you say, Professor Delacour?" McGonagall asked.

Fleur nodded to confirm.

"Well, she's a Black. I won't be surprised if Altair learned something from my father and passed it on to Ms. Black," Andromeda observed. "Unfortunately, what you described is unfamiliar to me, Fleur. I'm not sure what that could be."

"The both of you, please take extra precaution. We are facing the Blacks, they're one of the darkest wizarding families," McGonagall pleaded.

Both students promised.

"How's progress from your end?" Andromeda asked.

Hermione glanced at Ginny, who shrugged, signaling the brunette to speak for the both of them.

"Well, Tristane did mention about growing up with her father and never knowing her relatives until this summer," Hermione slowly answered. "I find it weird that in just that short span of time, Dra - uh Malfoy and Tristane are very close, and that the Slytherins are very protective of her. She doesn't seem to hold any magical prowess whatsoever, although she is certainly improving in her wandwork. But any Second Year can easily beat her anytime. She seems pretty naïve and ignorant, for a Slytherin. She is too… harmless to be Sorted there." Hermione pondered for a moment. "She is certainly nice to both Ginny and I, to the point that the rest of Slyterins are sort of tolerating and even being quite friendly with us. Oh, and for some strange reason, Narcissa Malfoy bakes Tristane cookies daily, even with the full knowledge that those cookies are eaten by us."

"Well, by me mostly. But there's no poison or anything like that - we've checked," Ginny hastily added, seeing the shocked looks on the professors' faces.

The three professors frowned and exchanged glances with each other.

"I'm not sure what my dear sister is planning, but I know she definitely will never do that," Andromeda looked worried. "Please be on your guard constantly, I don't like the sound of this."

"Call for us immediately if you sense danger," Fleur added. "That's the reason Andromeda and I are teaching here, remember?"

Both girls promised.

McGonagall rose, assisted by Fleur and Andromeda.

"Ladies, we will keep you updated as soon as we hear news from Kingsley. I want this to be over with quickly, I think you both don't need anymore unnecessary adventures."

That night, Hermione slept fitfully. Her nightmares consisted of her time at Malfoy Manor, but this time instead of Bellatrix torturing her, it was Tristane.


	9. Chapter 9

**_The plot starts to thicken... *dun dun dun*_**

 ** _I came across the Sacred Twenty Eight, the pureblood lineage. I thought it would be fun to include it in this story._**

 ** _JK Rowling owns Harry Potter world. I own Tristane, Jerome and Patrick._**

 ** _I hope you enjoy the story._**

* * *

 **Chapter Nine**

The Amazon rainforest, home to countless species of wildlife, had always been the world's fiercest guardian to its deepest secrets. For years, mankind had been trying to pillage and uncover its secrets. Expedition teams were sent, researchers entered, corporations steadily fell the trees to gradually open up the lands - but still the secrets were hidden away. Those who were not enemies of the rainforest lived as native tribes. Secrets of the Amazon were learned, in exchange for guardianship. The tribes, while not necessarily peaceful with each other, respected and worshipped the rainforest, as it should be. But outsiders still had not learnt their lesson: the Amazon would open its arms, but only to those willing to be respectful.

It was for this reason that Patrick Fawley chose to make the Amazon his home. Aside from himself and his loyal allies, no other outsiders were allowed entry by the rainforest. He could live in peace, doing what he enjoyed most without prying eyes and meddling minds. After his father, Hector, messed up royally in handling the Grindelwald threat and had to step down in shame, young Patrick was whisked away by his parents to Brazil, where he grew up among peers who had not much interest in British wizarding politics.

While Patrick was grateful for his parents' decision, he wanted his family name restored in Britain to its rightful place: a respectable house of one of the Sacred Twenty Eight, with bloodline as pure as the sun, and deeds as heroic as legends of old. He bid his return, learning as much as he could in the Americas, honing his skills which he felt would prove useful someday. Even when his sons, Mycroft and Nicholas, decided to return to England, Patrick stayed behind. He would only return when he was sure his goals were within reach. However, having his grandchildren in Hogwarts made him sped his schedule - he loved them dearly and wanted them to enjoy being part of a great house.

Patrick walked along the stream, ducking the occasional tree branches. He was pleased to had a productive morning, catching not one, but _five_ different frog species that he had never seen before, their bright colours hinting at the keys of the doors of Death. He gathered herbs he felt he would need, plants which scientists would kill for to research on. He chuckled at that thought, still marveling at the arrogance human beings could possess. Oh well, that arrogance worked in his favour - he was basically the sole master of this piece of vast land.

He opened the pouch fastened to his belt and frowned. His supplies were low. He made a mental note to pay a visit to his neighbours and buy some plants and animal ingredients that could not be found in his area. The shamans of his neighbouring tribes had been suspicious and outright hostile to him initially, which was understandable. Here was another white-skinned foreigner, trying to trample upon the land which their ancestors had been protecting for hundreds of years. But Patrick showed respect, to both the tribes and Mother Amazon. He presented himself as a seeker of knowledge, not as a conqueror. His skills as a Potioneer helped him immensely: the tribes took that as understanding how nature works, and they treated him as an ally after that. From their shamans, he learnt other types of magic that were so ancient and so powerful no other could rival. Except for other ancient tribes found in deep parts of Asia, he supposed.

He continued further upstream, and soon a rather large cabin came within view. From the outside, it looked like an ordinary hunter's cabin, but those who had been inside knew otherwise. Patrick could not shake off his comforts, and decorated the interior just like his home back in Sao Paolo, including his basement, which contained his lab. Again, he chuckled. His lab, was no ordinary lab. It was a lab of terror, despair, and hopelessness. He liked to imagine that Death would hang out at his lab and nodding Its approval of his experiments.

Patrick made his way into the cabin, past the heavy wards meant to not only drive away intruders, but to kill them in the most excruciating ways. His butler, Jerome, offered a cup of tea which he accepted, and drank. Jerome was a company he could tolerate - enjoy, even. The butler understood his station and was unfazed at whatever actions Patrick took. Jerome would just faithfully clean and maintain his cabin, cook, patrol the area, and clean up his lab. Never once did Patrick felt disgust from his butler, which touched him. It was always wonderful when your underling was devoted to you.

"Any news?"

Jerome knew his master was asking specifically about a certain project, not any ordinary news the muggle and wizarding world were facing.

"My Lord, the attempt was unfruitful," the butler tactfully answered. "She is still breathing."

Patrick frowned. He knew he should not put up high hopes, but nevertheless, he still hoped. One may get lucky…

"If only my granddaughter had proper training…" he sighed. What was done was done. He sometimes regretted his sons' decisions to move, knowing it jeopardized his grandchildren's education in family matters, but he respected that. He raised his sons to be able to stand up for themselves, and he did not want it any other way. He was just thankful they did not turn their backs on him and stood against the goals he had been working on nearly all his life. He was blessed with such loving sons, supporting him and even provided assistance when he required it. His sons understood the importance of making the Fawley name great again.

His dear granddaughter, Catherine, was a Second Year in Hogwarts. He had been proud when he was informed that she, like the rest of the Fawley clan, was Sorted into Hufflepuff, a great house known for mercy and fairness. People barely take Hufflepuff seriously, and he swore he would change it once his goals were achieved. Catherine had been a dear when she volunteered to help, and Patrick agreed, even knowing how little she knew in the art of assassination. It would be better off if she were in Slytherin and learnt from those evil Snakes, he supposed, but the thought of her in any other house aside from Hufflepuff disgusted him. No. He would never be able to accept that. It was not her fault to have housemates not keen to tread in the path of darkness, and he was still grateful for her willingness to help, regardless of the result.

"My Lord, if I may suggest?"

Patrick snapped out of his reverie and focused on the young man beside him. Jerome might just be a butler, but he had a sharp mind and had proven time and time again to be worthy of the Fawley patriarch's attention. Patrick gave his permission.

"A battle is not only fought on one front. It is won when the enemy is unable to protect all sides. Blotting her disgraceful existence will be easier when she is all alone and friendless."

Patrick pondered his butler's words for a moment.

"Your words are not without merit," he said slowly, "and I have an idea on what to do next. You've proven yourself to be a person worthy of my respects, again. If I have a daughter, I will not hesitate to offer her hand to you in marriage." Patrick then looked at Jerome shrewdly. "Perhaps I shall arrange for you to get to know my granddaughter better. I doubt there are any other men that I can entrust her to. If you can win her affections, I will certainly give my blessings. After all, you're only ten years older than her."

Jerome bowed and gave his thanks, his smile showed his happiness. This was better than a pay rise! He could be part of the great Fawley household and maybe, just maybe, would be granted to run the Fawleys' businesses.

"Jerome, leave immediately for England and arrange for this suggestion of yours. I shall entrust you to manage this - don't disappoint me. I'll be in my lab."

Without waiting for acknowledgement, Patrick walked down the stairs to the basement, and disappeared behind the door to his lab. Jerome bowed again, plans forming in his mind. He knew the perfect person he could use - a journalist with hound-like talents, managing to extract even the most secret of information. The fact that she loved money and did not believe in those "journalists are sworn to report the truth" bullshit made things easier. He took a Portkey to England, starting his search for a Rita Skeeter.

Down in his lab, Patrick gazed fondly at a sketch he drew himself. He could not bring himself to take a portrait of his best friend to his cabin, knowing the resistance his best friend would put up. Cygnus Black could be a hard-headed pig when he wanted to be, Patrick remembered. They had been friends since they were three, when Patrick was brought to Grimmauld Place for Cygnus' third birthday. The usually grumpy child was drawn to the Fawley heir, and they struck an unlikely friendship - the heir to the infamously dark family and the heir to the family known for displaying everything Helga Hufflepuff stood for. Patrick, a painfully shy boy, could be himself with the daring and slightly insane grumpy Cygnus.

Even when Patrick moved to Brazil, their friendship still remain steadfast. They would write often, and visit each other at least twice yearly. Patrick had admired Cygnus' insane daringness and a staunch belief in blood purity - it was Cygnus who opened his eyes to the special blood running through his veins. Patrick supported his best friend's decision in siding with Voldemort, even though he did not like the self-styled Dark Lord. Patrick, while, agreeing with Voldemort's vision of blood purity, could not see the Dark Lord as a leader. The Fawley patriarch had always believed people should follow out of genuine devotion and faithfulness, not out of fear. The fact that Voldemort never treated his followers with respect disgusted Patrick. For that alone, Patrick would never side Voldemort.

Patrick also knew how much Cygnus hated the fact that he had no son to continue the Black name. Bellatrix never had a child, Andromeda eloped with a filth, and Narcissa only had one son - her husband would never give up his heir to be Cygnus' heir.

"My foolish friend…"

Patrick remembered the day when Cygnus appeared at his home, full of excitement . The Black patriarch had told him that he finally had a son! But before he could rejoice in his friend's happiness, he found out that Cygnus had done the unthinkable - he mated with filth, and she gave birth to his son. Patrick also could not wrap his head around the fact that the sole reason Cygnus did that was due to some prophecy - a Seer had Seen the wretched wench, and prophesied to Cygnus some unbelievable nonsense. Understandably, Cygnus hid his son and mistress.

Patrick was convinced Cygnus did that because he was desperate. He had drown in despair, and did the first suggestion a so-called Seer made. Patrick had found and murdered the irritating Seer for that. She would never be able to trap other respectable purebloods. He never told Cygnus of it, knowing his friend would be upset. Patrick believed that Cygnus was deluded and made foolish mistakes, and it was now up to him, Cygnus' best friend, to do what the Black patriarch could not do: rectify that mistake.

Patrick was horrified when he found out that mistake procreated and made an even filthier mistake. He had erased the mistake and the mistake's wench, and now he needed to erase the mistake's filthier mistake. The filth was parading around the honourable name of Black, and even managed to trap the Malfoy heir into doing unthinkable things: he was now dating a mudblood (he got drunk and wept for his friend when he heard that) and spent time with blood traitors.

"Cygnus, you had been my only true friend. I will not fail to restore your family name," he swore softly to the sketch. Patrick had always regretted being unable to prevent Cygnus from making such a horrendous mistake, and regretted it even more when he could not achieve that goal before Cygnus' untimely death. He had been carrying two families' burdens ever since - the Fawleys and the Blacks. He would make it through and achieve his goals, regardless of the difficulties.

For the time being, he had experiments to do. He would wait and see how Jerome's little plan would go - as always, he expected nothing much, but perhaps Jerome could achieve what others had failed to do. Patrick took the poisonous frogs out of the cage and extracted their juicy poison. He tinkered with vials and, once satisfied, he entered the Experiment Room.

The Experiment Room contained experiment subjects in various states and forms - homeless muggles nobody would miss, each in a small cage. All of them had their tongues cut and mouths sewn, for Patrick hated their unnecessary whimpers and screams. Patrick could not understand why these muggles would not just accept the fact that they were filth and it was within Patrick's rights to do unto them whatever he wished. He chose a teenage girl, close to Tristane's build, and injected the new poison he concocted. He was disappointed when the girl's eyes instantly went vacant, devoid of life. He wanted a slow and painful death on Tristane for daring to wear the Black mantle and corrupting the Malfoy heir.

He sighed and returned to his lab. More experiments to do.


	10. Chapter 10

_**How have your week been? I hope things have been alright with you guys. I'm just happy that it's the weekend again.**_

 _ **JK Rowling owned the Harry Potter world.**_

 _ **I hope you guys are still enjoying the story.**_

* * *

 **Chapter Ten**

Usually, Ginny would be happy to eat wonderful Hogwarts food regardless of the situation at general mood at hand. She could be counted on to be one of the few (aside from her brother, of course) who could eat normally as if nothing happened, even if something terrible was happening. This particular skill of hers was one of the things her friends and housemates held on to during the Carrows' reign at Hogwarts. Regardless whose death was announced on the _Prophet_ that day, or who got detention with the Carrows, or which muggleborn got caught and thrown to Azkaban, seeing Ginny eating without a care at the Gryffindor's table brought a sense of calm on the student body, sustaining their hope of a better tomorrow, knowing that somewhere, someplace, Harry and his two best friends were still leading the fight against the Dark Lord.

Naturally, it stirred the students' innate gossiping desires and across the four house tables, students were whispering and nudging each other, glancing furtively at Ginny's direction, when they realised that the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain were eating her meal rather awkwardly. The redhead could feel the stares on her and her immediate companions, and wished, for the first time, that they would be eating Draco's boring cooking. For the umpteenth time, she cursed Draco silently for putting her in this predicament.

The day had started off well: McGonagall had announced the changes to Hogwarts Quidditch matches, which was surprisingly exciting. Ginny had feared there would be less opportunities for her to play and be forced to spend more time studying, but was pleased to find out that it was not the case. There would be two matches each month, and each team would play once a month. If that was not sweet enough, at the end of the school year, after exams results were released, they would be playing against a professional Quidditch team and, if they win, Hogwarts students would get a free ticket to the professional team's match! Granted, the student body would need to vote for Hogwarts' representatives, but Ginny was confident she would be voted. She hoped this year she would be able to play all Gryffindor matches and be in her top form. If she was voted, and Hogwarts won, there would be no way the Holyhead Harpies would ever reject her application!

Unfortunately, the Goddess of Balance seemed to dislike the notion of an overly happy Ginny. Soon after, Draco, in his usual pig-headed overprotective brotherly mode, pissed off Tristane. Draco, like Ginny, was excited with the prospect of representing Hogwarts against a professional Quidditch team. He started to made plans to spend as much time possible training (and living on the pitch if it was possible) and was thinking out loud how to delegate his Head Boy duties without losing the badge, as well as informing Tristane that she would be required to accompany the Pirates to the pitch daily. An annoyed Hermione told off Draco and threatened to report to the Headmistress if he tried to shirk from his duties, which the blond instantly responded smoothly that he would never dream of even doing that. But Hermione's annoyance could not match Tristane's ire. The Black heiress went ballistic, yelling obscenities at Draco while telling him that she was no fragile glass and she could look after herself, thank you. To make matters worse, the whole commotion occurred in the hallways when they were on their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts from Advanced Potions. Ginny was pretty sure the whole school witnessed it.

During Defense class, Fleur had started to teach tactics against multiple opponents. The French professor unknowingly ignited flames within Hermione and Tristane, and both girls requested (demanded, it seemed to Fleur) to team up against Draco for 'practice'. As Tristane could barely cast any offensive spells, Ginny was dragged to 'help' Hermione's team. Poor Draco was desperately avoiding fatal injuries and could only manage to cast shields and dodging spells. Ginny did not even need to cast any spell - an annoyed Hermione was a fearsome Hermione. Tristane got creative and threw various objects her hands could reach (including the dustbin) , claiming that during a fight, enemies would resort to anything to win. Fleur could not disagree with that argument.

For the whole day, Ginny did not dare to mention Quidditch (damn you, Draco!) and was silent most of the time, now wanting to draw the two girls' fury upon her. The two girls decided to forgo Draco's meals and Ginny dutifully followed, not wanting to be seen as agreeing with Draco in any way. But the girls' muttering and complaining of Draco at the table drew unnecessary attention from the rest of the school. Ginny could ignore Death Eaters' threats and general doom, but for some reason, she could not convince herself to eat normally when both Hermione and Tristane were in a killing mood. She wondered whether that was how her father felt whenever her mother's temper rose. For a brief moment, she felt solidarity with her father.

Ginny wished the rest of the Pirates would sit with them but knew that there was no way for Slytherins to willingly sit at Gryffindor house table, and there was definitely no way the Gryffindors would tolerate it. Tristane was the exception, never growing up with any house prejudice or rivalry, and could not care less at which table she would be eating. To her, a table was a table. As long as it was clean, she would be content.

When Hermione left for her usual patrol, Ginny was slightly relieved: one less mad woman to deal with. The redhead now just needed to find ways to extricate herself from Tristane or make the one-eyed girl quiet. She saw Daphne making her way toward them and was hopeful that the Slytherin would drag the still ranting Tristane away. Daphne smiled cheerfully at them and sat next to Tristane.

"Are you guys finished? Let's go to the Astronomy Tower," Daphne took Tristane's goblet and gave it to the one-eyed girl, asking for the girl to finish up quickly.

Ginny was certain Daphne put something in Tristane's goblet, but it was too quick and too subtle for the redhead to observe clearly. Tristane did not seem to notice it, and gulped the whole content. Ginny tried to catch Daphne's eyes, but the Slytherin would not look at her.

They went to the Astronomy Tower, and Tristane seemed to calmed down. The wind was gentle tonight, and the skies were clear. Tristane claimed one of the telescopes and ignored the other two witches. Ginny had a feeling the Slytherin was mad at them as well for some reason, and wondered whether Tristane did actually notice what Daphne was doing.

Ginny, not wanting to deal with more negative moods, sat on the ledge, with Daphne next to her.

"Greengrass, what did you put in her goblet?" Ginny whispered.

Daphne glanced subtly at Tristane before murmuring, "Bezoar Essence. Just a little bit, to counter any potential poisoning so that we'll have enough time to deal with it. Just a safety precaution. You have sharp eyes, Weaslette."

"I did check her food and drinks," Ginny felt slightly insulted. "I cast the spells."

"Look, I know you're capable to look out for her, and I do trust you on that, but I was just adding precaution," Daphne held up her hands, trying to appease the redhead, who snorted at that.

They sat in silence for the rest of the time, until Tristane declared she needed to see Draco in the Heads' Quarters. Ginny decided to tag along, sure that it would be entertaining and at least the rest of the school would not be present to witness it.

When they reached the Heads' Quarters, Draco and Hermione was in the middle of an argument. Upon Tristane's entrance, they stopped.

"Tristane! Why were you not eating your dinner here? I was worried!"

Tristane stared at a furious Draco and Ginny felt the room somehow felt colder and frightening. She shivered, inching closer slowly to Daphne.

"Who the fuck died and made you king?" Tristane whispered in a menacing tone, advancing slowly on Draco, like a predator.

Oblivious to the dangers, Draco held his ground. Hermione, who had been arguing with Draco, slowly backed away from the both of them, joining Ginny and Daphne instead. The Head Girl exchanged worried glances with Ginny, and both knew the other could feel something was wrong.

Something was _really_ wrong.

They both put their hands in their pockets, holding on tightly to their wands. They noticed that Daphne was doing the same as well.

 _So is Greengrass afraid of Tristane?_ Hermione mused to herself. _I wonder why._

"Oh wait yes, I remember. My _father_ died but he did not make you king," Tristane continued, venomously. She stopped right in front of Draco, just an arm's length away. "So tell me, _your majesty_ , what is your next order for this poor servant of yours?"

Draco frowned. "What are you on about?"

Tristane laughed bitterly.

"I am not stupid, Draco." She folded her arms, a mixture of disappointment, anger, and sadness on her face. "You've been nothing but a clingy and overprotective cousin, even during my stay at your house. Neither you nor Aunt Cissa would tell me much about my heritage, and never allowed me out of your sight even for just one second. At first I thought it's just the effects of the war, and that you're being overly cautious. That's understandable. After all, up till now there are still loose Death Eaters in hiding. But what I don't understand is why the need for you to be a guard dog when we are in school. Yes, I understand that me carrying the Black name and being in Slytherin makes me a target of anger from the society in general, but really, we're in school. I am supposed to learn something here to help me prepare to enter a society I never knew existed. But instead of helping me, you're keeping me in the dark. You're not protecting me, _cousin_ , you're jailing me. I wonder, why is that?

Maybe it's something to do with the so-called prank that left me gushing out blood from my mouth a while back? I know people want me dead. I know I am a target."

At this, Draco's face paled.

"Don't bother denying it, as I said, I am not stupid. I can see why you'd be overprotective, but I don't understand the need for secrecy. People want me dead. Wouldn't it be better if I am aware so that I can be cautious?"

She turned and looked at Ginny, Hermione, and Daphne in the eyes.

"I thought the three of you were my friends. But apparently, you're just my guard dogs just like my dear cousin here. None of you were ever interested in being my friends from the start, weren't you? I understand that. I'm a nobody. I have limited knowledge about your world. I am useless with a wand as well. Why would I interest you, Hermione, one of the Golden Trio? Or a talented Quidditch player like you, Ginny? I think Daphne's intention is understandable. After all, Slytherins do look after their own."

She turned back to Draco, not giving a chance to anyone to voice their protests.

"I am not of age yet but I will be, in a couple of months' time. I am the last Black alive, and I can just walk out of your life anytime, my cousin. Tell me what is going on, or I swear to the gods above I will make sure the Black family name is gone."

Draco's eyes widened at her threat.

"Wait, Tristane, you can't just destroy the Black name! It's an ancient, honourable, and powerful house!" he protested, panicking. "Alright, alright, I'll tell you. Granger, Weaslette, get out. You can't hear this conversation."

"Back to Granger now, Ferret Boy? You're an arse." Hermione was prepared to fight for her right to stay. She knew that the coming conversation would be the information they needed.

"No, they stay. I'm fucking sick of secrets. You're not the boss here, you don't get to call the shots." Tristane's face turned hard.

Draco massaged the back of his neck and exhaled.

"Alright, fine. Fine. If that's what you want. Don't regret it later."

Tristane just shot him a dark look.

"Yes, someone wanted you dead, but we don't know who. I didn't want you to worry, I wanted you to enjoy life in Hogwarts. I'm sorry if that was difficult for you, but I didn't wanna take any chances. You nearly died, Tristane, someone managed to lace your food with poison, dammit!" He looked at Tristane in the eye, pleading for her to understand. She said nothing.

"You're important. Not only as a cousin, but as the only living Black. And uh," he hesitated, "and there's a prophecy about you."

Hermione exchanged glances with Ginny. This was it!

"What prophecy?" Tristane narrowed her eyes.

"I'm not sure of its full details, and I swear I don't know the wordings of the prophecy," he added hastily. "But I do know that according to grandfather, you will be the one who will restore the Black's honour and name. That's why you're very important."

Tristane snorted.

"So none of you ever genuinely cared for me huh." She looked so sad and lost that Ginny wanted to run to her and hug her. But she did not.

"No, Tristane, I do care for you. You're my only cousin left," Draco pleaded.

Tristane said nothing, and the room was silent, waiting with bated breath of her next course of action.

"I'm sick of all of you. Don't try to follow me."

She walked out of the room, sparing no glances at any of them. Ginny wanted to follow the Slytherin, to apologise and accompany her back to her dorm, knowing it would be dangerous for a defenseless Slytherin to roam the castle alone at night. But she could not move. None of them could not move, as if they were being held by unseen forces. The air was heavy and thick, and none of them could breathe properly. Ginny herself was struggling for air, and her lungs hurt. She could only watch Tristane exiting the room with a sad face.

Moments after the Black heiress left, the four of them collapsed, breathing heavily.

"What. The. Fuck." Daphne was shivering uncontrollably, swearing between breaths.

Hermione struggled to her knees and pointed her wand at Draco.

"Expelliarmus."

The Head Girl captured Draco's wand, to the boy's surprise. Ginny had no idea what was going on but she went into action, training her wand at Daphne.

"What the fuck, Hermione. Give me my wand back."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"So now it's back to Hermione? Tell me, Draco, who the hell is Tristane? What is she?"

"What? She's a witch. She's a Black. I don't understand your question," he looked confused.

Daphne looked confused as well, worry etched on her face. She could not possibly reach her wand without Ginny hexing her first.

"We couldn't move, Draco. We couldn't breathe. Heck, I thought I was bloody going to die." Ginny was more shocked at Hermione swearing than her breathing difficulties. "Tristane Black is supposed to be a witch with severely limited magical skills and knowledge. I've faced Bellatrix, and I've fought countless Death Eaters. Compared to them, Tristane is a baby. But why could we not move?"

"Is she a dark wizard? The next Voldy or something?" Ginny demanded.

Draco shook his head.

"No, she can't possibly be," he struggled with his breathing. "Mother tested her when she first arrived. There's no trace of darkness in her at all. I know dark wizards' aura, Hermione. She's not one."

"Then how do you explain what happened?" Hermione was still suspicious. There was no way she would believe Draco, even though they were already on first-name basis.

"I don't know, and I'd like to know as much as you do. Maybe she's just angry and it's uncontrollable magic? She doesn't know many spells anyway, so it's possible that it's her emotions directing magical energy right?"

Hermione pondered it for a moment. That did sound plausible, but she was not fully satisfied.

"That could be," she allowed. "Tell me about this prophecy."

"As I've said before, I don't know," he was irritated. "In grandfather's will, he only said his son's offspring will bring greatness to the family. It's vague. We don't know what prophecy was made and who made it."

Hermione felt Ginny's light touch on her shoulder. She knew the redhead was thinking similarly with her: _could it be Trelawney again?_

The Head Girl decided to trust Draco's words for the time being and lowered her wand. Ginny followed her action and helped Daphne to get on her feet. Hermione tossed Draco's wand to its owner and sat on the couch.

"Why can't my life in Hogwarts be simple?" she groaned.

Draco sat next to her.

"I know right," he sighed. "Look, Hermione, I never meant to make you feel suspicious toward me. I am sure Tristane is not a dark wizard. If she was, there's no way mother would welcome her. We're sick and tired of the dark path - look at where the Dark Lord brought us: we're nearly destroyed. I'm glad you and Potter destroyed him, 'cause now I can sleep peacefully at my own home without being worried one of his Death Eaters will hex me or something. You don't know how glad I am that Aunt Bella is dead. She's too insane for her own good."

Hermione looked at him and saw that he was genuine. His eyes spoke of honesty.

"Alright," she decided. "I'm sick of dark wizards as well. Because of them, I never seemed to be able to have a peaceful school year. Draco, I expect you to cooperate with me for Tristane's case. Even if she is not a dark wizard, someone still wants her dead, for reasons unknown. She's my friend and I want to help. This is non-negotiable, by the way."

"Yeah, count me in as well," Ginny said.

"Me too, Drake. I am tired of secrets," Daphne muttered.

Draco groaned.

"Fine, at least I know you're trustworthy," he grumbled. "But now we need to figure out a way to get Tristane's forgiveness. I am still paranoid and I don't like the fact that she's alone somewhere in this castle."

Hermione was rather amused - she was back on hatching plans, like per usual. As if Harry and Ron never left.

"Gin, get a parchment and a quill. Let's get this over with."


	11. Chapter 11

_**Skellyshook: I've just noticed I have reviews. Well, I can't make any promises about Tristane :p Thank you for reviewing and I hope you are enjoying the story :)**_

 ** _JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter world._**

* * *

 **CHAPTER ELEVEN**

A couple of First Year Ravenclaws were concentrating hard on their wands, flicking and swishing them with unnecessary flourish. A few objects nearby wobbled slightly, to the couple's excitement. A third Ravenclaw – this one a Fourth Year, shook his head and explained something softly to the stressed-out First Years. He drew his wand, muttered, and the heavy jug of water in front of them levitated a couple of meters high before he skilfully landed it gently to its previous spot on the table. The Ravenclaw House may be famous for its appreciation on intelligence, but that did not mean the house never had students struggling academically.

Tristane watched the trio silently, a few metres away in the Ravenclaw Common Room, unnoticed by anyone. She could sympathise with the two First Years – after all, she herself was still struggling with her wandwork. True, she could finally cast a few simple spells successfully, but she still felt quite uncomfortable with her wand and casting spells in general. In addition, the amount of energy consumed each time she cast a spell gave another reason for her to dislike wands and spells. Unfortunately, in this particular world she chose to enter (well, she had to enter it for her safety), wands and spellcasting were key ingredients of survival, including in societal matters. Without spellcasting abilities, she would be categorised as a Squib, and she was sure she was no Squib. Though, she could not understand why being a Squib would matter so much. After all, magic was not defined by wandwork and spells, and being a Squib did not mean one could not do Potions or other branches of magic.

After their umpteenth attempt, the two First Years managed to levitate their respective books for two seconds, to the Fourth Year's delight. Finally, Ravenclaw's honour would not be tarnished! The Fourth Year insisted for the two First Years to repeat the levitating charm three more times before he was satisfied to leave them and go on his way. Tristane smiled seeing the two First Years' happiness at mastering the spell, and wondered whether she should attempt the spell. She then remembered it would drain her energy, and if she wished to still go unnoticed by everyone, she should conserve her energy instead.

Their hard work reminded her of the first time her father taught her about magic. She was young – about seven or eight – and was having worryingly high fever with her pupils turned to a shade of red. Altair Black was not sure whether the nearest clinic would be able to diagnose her correctly (well, how would a muggle clinic treat a magical illness?) and was not keen to expose themselves to the Australian Wizarding society. In desperation, he brought her to the nearest Aborigine Shaman he could find, concluding that magic was magic, regardless of how a person may practice it. Tristane barely remembered much, as she was delirious and in so much pain. However, she did remember the kind eyes of the Shaman and her father's worried face.

When she awoke from her delirious state, she was back on her bed in their caravan – her father refused to live in one area for more than a year. He usually worked in farms whenever they needed money, but occasionally he would work as a beast exterminator in the Australian Wizarding society, disguising his looks. When he did that, he would use the name "Joe Hunter". Tristane never understood her father's dislike (or fear, come to think about it) of the wizarding world until the day he died and revealed her heritage.

In their caravan, he explained to her that she was dying from some magical malady that the Shaman called 'of Sadness and Longing' in his tribe's tongue. Altair could not care less what it was called and what it meant, as long as Tristane was cured, which she was. There, she learned of the world of magic (in the general sense – he did not tell her of any wizarding societies until she was much older) started to learn ancient magics. Her father had kept hundreds of magical-related books and she devoured them. She found herself drawn to runes, symbols, and sounds, and was pretty skilled at them. She remembered Altair telling her proudly when he witnessed her successfully putting out a small bushfire which they happened to be in the vicinity of, "you'll be a remarkable witch one day, Tristane. One needs not wand, pointy hat, and a broom to wield magic. There are many paths to magic, and I am so proud of you." She was ten at that time and did not really understand the deeper meaning behind those words, but he was proud of her and that made her happy.

A shadow crossed her face and she smiled sadly when she found out she was born a witch from an ancient wizarding family. She was excited at that, yes, but that knowledge came at the cost of her father's life. Altair was at his deathbed and told her in a short summary that she had other magical relatives in Britain and she must return there (could it be call a returning? She was, after all, born in Australia) to seek refuge, as his time was approaching. Before she could protest or ask questions, he thrusted a ring into her hands and that whisked her away to Britain. The ring was a one-time Portkey, been handed down from her grandfather, who somehow knew his son would one day run away and needed to return home immediately. Tristane absent-mindedly caressed the said ring she wore on her little finger, wondering who her grandfather really was. From the public records, she read that he was the first in the family to voice support for Voldemort, although he himself was not a follower. His eldest, Bellatrix, was the first in the family to be a Death Eater, earning respect from the family's circles. Her cousin, Regulus, followed suit. Her sister, Narcissa, while not a Death Eater, was married to one.

Narcissa Malfoy had been reluctant to talk about Cygnus Black, and the little that she was willing to speak of, gave no insight on the man. Tristane, while curious, never pressed further, thinking that with time, her aunt would surely be willing to talk more about him. After all, Narcissa was the first mother figure Tristane ever had, treating the orphan like her own daughter since the first day the teen arrived at her doorstep, bloodied and gravely injured.

Tristane closed her eyes at that thought, not wanting to relieve that particular horror. The ring had transported her to the edge of Malfoy Manor (why she was not whisked to any Black property was another mystery to both Tristane and Narcissa), just at the edge of the woods right out of the Manor. She was trying to get her bearing and was still in confusion in regards to her father, when masked assailants attacked her mercilessly. Tristane thought she was going to die, but her mind was clear enough to summon an ancient protection she had just happened to read the day before. She shuddered at the memory of what she had done, but knew that it was a necessity. It had protected her, and allowed Draco, who came to check on the disturbance, enough time to rescue her. He had wanted to deposit her at Mungo's but, recognising the emblem on the ring she wore, brought her to Narcissa instead.

"Are Wrackspurts attacking your mind?"

Tristane opened her eyes in haste, shocked that someone spoke to her. She thought she had made sure she had drawn the proper runes to prevent both the living and the dead from noticing her before entering the Common Room. But, upon seeing the face just a few inches away from her face, she calmed down. For some reason, Luna Lovegood had no problem noticing Tristane, no matter how strong the runes and symbols the latter drew to cloak herself. Initially it made the Slytherin wary, but there was something in Luna that assured Tristane. After just an hour of spending time with Luna, Tristane concluded that the normal laws governing this world did not apply to Luna Lovegood. The Ravenclaw's bizarre ways of life never failed to both amuse and confuse Tristane.

"I think Wrackspurts don't find me appetising at the moment, Luna," the Slytherin smiled.

Without waiting for invitation, Luna sat next to Tristane. The Common Room ignored them both, and Tristane knew nobody had noticed her. It made her slightly sad that her friend was being ignored with or without any magic helping, but for the time being, it did not matter, as she did not want to be noticed.

"You are separated from the people you care about, and you are lonely at the moment. That makes you ripe for the taking and you do look delicious to me," Luna said seriously.

Tristane was sure Luna was being serious about the dangers of Wrackspurts, but could not help blushing. There was no innuendo in the Ravenclaw's words, was there?

"I find life more enjoyable when things are alright between us and our loved ones. You are due for some flying action too," Luna added.

Tristane understood the Ravenclaw's first sentence, but was confused about the second one.

"Uh, flying?"

Luna looked worried. "Your mind is already addled. Let's put you to bed, shall we?"

The Slytherin suspected Luna was not willing to explain further about the flying part and, honestly, she herself was feeling rather sleepy. So she nodded and followed the Ravenclaw to her room and slept on one of the empty beds which she had been using for the past few days. Tristane checked her runes and, satisfied they were still working, slept. It would not look good on both her and Luna if the Ravenclaws found out a Slytherin had been bunking with them.

* * *

As per usual, Hermione and Draco were in the library studying together. For some reason, Hermione felt it was not right to go to the library alone without Draco, even if he often irritated her. But, upon reflection, she found everybody around her tend to irritate her one way or another: from Harry with his saving-people complex to Ginny with her tendencies to drag Hermione into whatever impulsive thing she was having in mind. Hermione noticed that the things she found irritating with Draco changed as days went by. She used to be irritated with him as a whole, especially with his smirk and arrogant expression, but strangely, she now found those to be quite amusing. Lately, however, he irritated her with his overprotective behaviour toward Tristane. Hermione felt that his over-protectiveness was the sole cause of her inability to enjoy a peaceful final year at Hogwarts.

The boy in question was opening Hermione's ink bottle for her, a habit he started a couple of weeks ago. Draco had been walking her to her classes, even when they were not sharing the same classes, and carried her books and satchel, in addition to carrying Tristane's. He had insisted on doing it, and Hermione was too surprised to argue. He carried her belongings to and from the library as well, and would neatly laid out her stationery for her, even opening her ink bottle! Hermione felt flattered, and wondered how things would be had Ron been doing those for her. She shook her head at that thought - she was still slightly mad at Ron, and did not want to fill her head with thoughts of him.

"Do you think Tristane will forgive me?" Draco asked, looking forlorn. His silvery grey eyes held emotions in them, emotions he never showed in public. There was sadness, loneliness, emptiness - but gentleness as well. For a second, Hermione wanted to reach out her hand to his face, to caress those eyes of his, to touch the gentleness displayed in those eyes.

"I believe so, Draco," she answered softly, not wanting that gentleness to dissipate.

He sighed and put his head in his hands.

"I messed up royally, haven't I?" he mumbled.

She desperately wanted to comfort him, to tell him that everything will be alright. She wondered whether he would feel the same way if she was angry at him, and whether he would do everything in his power to make amends. Hermione shook the thoughts away, frowning. What the hell was happening to her? Was it the time of the month? Since when was she so… sappy? And, why was she being so sappy for Draco?

Her eyes widened. Sappy. For. Draco.

What. The. Hell.

She stood abruptly, causing her chair to made a loud screech. Draco looked up, surprised.

"What's wrong, 'Mione?" he was concerned.

There. She saw it. The same gentleness and worry, but not it was directed at her. Hermione was confused. What did she eat that made her so confused?

"Uh, I'm sorry Draco, I need to find Ginny. I forgot there's something very I need to talk to her about. I'll see later, alright?"

Without waiting for an answer, she sped away from the library, away from Draco. She knew it was mean of her, but she was counting on the boy to bring her belongings for her later on. She just needed to see Ginny desperately, not understanding why her usually organised mind was scattered.

The hunt for the youngest Weasley turned to be a difficult challenge. Hermione could not find her anywhere - in the Gryffindor Tower, in the Kitchens, at the Quidditch Pitch, and even the Astronomy Tower. She harassed everyone she met, interrogating them of Ginny's whereabouts, and wondered whether the redhead had finally another fling or boyfriend and was meeting him in secret somewhere. That frustrated her. But nobody had seen the elusive redhead, and everybody was sure Ginny was still single at that moment. Out of desperation, Hermione went to the Owlery and despaired to see no redhead around. However, there was one Gryffindor sending a letter, one she recognised. It was the new Beater for the house team, although his name seemed to escape her for the moment.

"You there! Halt!" she screeched at the frightened boy.

The Beater froze, praying to the gods above to spare him from the wrath of the Head Girl on a warpath coming his way.

"Where is Ginny?" she demanded. Hermione did not realise she was gripping the boy's arms tightly, shaking him.

"I don't know, I'm sorry I don't know," the Beater pleaded.

"Who is her boyfriend? Tell me!"

The poor boy wondered whether he would leave the Owlery alive.

"I don't know, I'm sorry I don't know, I really do not know. All I know is she is still single. Please don't kill me!"

Hermione wondered why the boy would plead for his life, but that did not matter. She needed to find Ginny.

"Are you sure? I can't find her anywhere! She must be meeting some secret boyfriend somewhere!"

"I…I thought you're dating Malfoy? Is…is he a cover for Ginny? She likes to take a bath after practices. May…maybe she is there. I'm sorry, don't kill me!"

The Head Girl was confused - what was Draco covering for Ginny? That did not matter, she dashed off to the prefect's bathroom without thanking the Beater. The boy was grateful for his life and thanked all the gods and goddesses he remembered. He needed his friends - they would help him make sense of what was happening. The Beater felt somewhat relieved to know that the Golden Girl was dating another Gryffindor, even if it was with another girl. Anyone was better than that Malfoy creep! Unbeknownst to Hermione, she had created a new story for the gossip mill, and this particular boy was a skilled gossipmonger.

Hermione raced to the prefect's bathroom and barged in to a very naked Ginny enjoying Firewhiskey.

"GINNY!"

The redhead choked on the drink and fumbled to gather as much bubbles to cover her nudity.

"What the bloody hell, 'Mione! I'm naked here!"

Hermione locked the door and knelt next to Ginny. The former grabbed the latter's head in both her hands, and leaned forward, their heads were very close. Ginny could feel heat slowly rising to her face, and blamed the Firewhiskey for that. She wished she was dressed decently, at least. And had some distance between their heads.

"I need your help, Ginny! Something's wrong with me! I think someone's poisoned me, or slipped a love potion, or I may be having my period soon but it is not due for another couple of weeks, or maybe my diet had been terrible lately and my hormone's all gone crazy, or I am having some weird growth spurt, or there's a magical illness that I have contracted, or maybe when I - "

"I KNEW IT, SNOOTY HEAD GIRL LIKES FEMALE REDHEADS!"

Both girls turned their heads and saw Moaning Myrtle looking delighted at what she saw. With her free hand, Ginny grabbed her wand and Myrtle was dragged away by magic, looking pissed. The redhead then turned back to her friend.

"Take a deep breath, 'Mione. Start from the beginning," she instructed.

Hermione then realised the position they were in, and the state of Ginny's nudity, and blushed. The Head Girl released her grip on Ginny and looked away, giving some privacy to the redhead.

"Oh, so you're shy now after having a good look?" Ginny teased her.

"Shut up, Gin. I'm sorry, I was full of adrenaline, was not really thinking when I barged in," Hermione mumbled.

"That's alright, I know you wouldn't be that crazy without a good reason. So, what's up? Want some?" she offered the Firewhiskey.

Hermione frowned.

"Where did you get that from?"

Ginny wiggled a finger at Hermione.

"That would be telling. Come on, let it pass this time, 'Mione. I need to de-stress myself too, you know."

Hermione sighed. She was not in the mood to deal with this. She was torn between doing her duty and getting her head straight, and decided to just ignore this for the moment.

"Something's gone wrong, Gin. I don't know what's happening," she groaned.

"Are you alright?"

Hermione buried her head in her hands.

"I don't know. My mind hasn't been able to focus properly. That git keeps on filling my mind. Every little thing that he did, every single unimportant aspect…"

Ginny raised an eyebrow and took a sip. This was going to be good. Or not. Depending on who the 'git' in question was.

"Did my brother finally write to you?"

Hermione was surprised. She looked up and shook her head.

"No, not _that_ particular git."

"Which git then?"

Hermione blushed.

"Um… Please don't jump to any conclusion, because I myself do not know what this means, and maybe it's because I've been spending too much time and drama with him lately, and he was just looking so sad, and there was this tenderness in his eyes, and I think his silver eyes look gorgeous, plus he has been so gentlemanly with me, and he is a neat person, did you know he never spills the ink whenever he opens the bottle for me? Anyway, don't think too much of this, but he was just so, so sad about Tristane, and was so worried about her, and -"

Ginny could not hold her laughter.

"Merlin, Hermione! You frightened me for a moment. I was so afraid you would get back with my idiotic brother!"

"Er… you don't like me being with your brother?"

Ginny snorted.

"Of course not! He was not your match and could never make you truly happy. I love him, he is my brother, but I can't let my best friend be in a doomed relationship, can I? So, did you kiss him? Draco, I mean."

"Wait, what? No, no! Are you crazy?" Hermione could feel her tone getting higher and tried to control herself. "Why would I kiss him?"

Ginny looked amused.

"Alright, alright. You're just worried about him. And thinking about Draco's tender eyes. I see."

Hermione felt she needed to defend herself.

"I don't know what you're implying, Gin, but my mind was just not thinking properly. I think I'm just tired, I am lacking of proper sleep. That's what I need - proper rest. Night!"

The Head Girl exited the bathroom quickly, running to her Quarters as fast as her legs could carry. Ginny was not implying anything, was she? No, she could not be. The last time Hermione was not thinking properly was when she was exhausted and in so much pain, when Bellatrix tortured her. That must be it! She was just exhausted and maybe the aftermath of the torture was still affecting her. Feeling foolish for harassing half of the castle, Hermione slipped quietly into her room and decided to sleep immediately. Draco had not returned from the library, and she felt slightly guilty for ditching him so suddenly in his time of need.

Hermione forced herself to clear her mind from all thoughts, and slowly drifted off to sleep. Her dreams, however, were filled with a world of hues of silver and grey, and feeling of tenderness.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Sorry for the delay, I had been extremely busy and as soon as I reached home, I immediately went to Dream Land.**_

 ** _JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter world._**

 ** _Please enjoy the story. :)_**

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWELVE**

Tristane felt refreshed when she woke up. The skies were still dark, and her roommates were still fast asleep. She decided that the day was as good as any for reconciliation. She checked her runes and went to take a quick shower, marvelling at the powers of ancient knowledge that prevented people from knowing she was around. Except for Luna, of course. Before exiting Luna's dorm, Tristane whispered her thanks to the still form of the sleeping girl, not doubting that the Ravenclaw would know it.

Throughout the night, images of the skies and the feeling of flying kept haunting Tristane's mind. She had a suspicion Luna's words of flying were attached to her subconscious and bugged her sleeping mind. Perhaps that was a strong suggestion (or an order) from the eccentric Ravenclaw, and Tristane took it as that. So the Slytherin went to the Quidditch pitch, thinking that Ginny should be the first one she needed to apologise to. One day, Tristane would ask Luna why Ginny – why not apologise to Draco first? After all, was Draco not her cousin and well, the one most worried for her wellbeing? But Luna tended to work in mysterious ways, and there was something in the Ravenclaw that convinced Tristane to just trust her mysterious ways.

Tristane had no idea what the time was, but she knew it must be early enough for the skies to still remain dark and no living soul roaming around. Well, there was no school ghost around too, and the Slytherin wondered whether the ghosts had their own sleeping cycle or not. She made a mental note to ask the Bloody Baron the next time she saw him. While she did not personally like the grouchy Slytherin ghost, she could sense that for some reason, the Baron had a grudging respect for her. He was always polite and sensible with her, unlike to the rest of the student body. Even to Draco, he would be quite moody and grouchy. More mystery for her to solve in this ever-increasing complex British Wizarding society.

She trudged the school grounds until she reached the pitch where a lonesome figure swooped between the goalposts in a complicated and blurry movement. Judging by the borderline insane way of zig-zagging, Tristane had no doubt the figure was Ginny. Tristane took the stones holding her runes, chanted some incantations, and put them back in her pocket. She then walked nearer to the center of the pitch and yelled at Ginny, trying to get attention from the blurry figure. It seemed to work, for the figure stopped and descended to the ground.

"Tristane! What are you doing here?"

Tristane felt like giggling seeing Ginny's surprised eyes and wind swept hair that made the Gryffindor looked wild.

"Oh you know, just spying on the Gryffindor's one-woman show Quidditch team," Tristane answered nonchalantly.

Ginny was not sure whether it was a joke or not.

"Uh… The Slytherin team is not nearby, right?" the redhead looked around, half suspicious. There was nobody else in sight, however.

Tristane laughed. It felt good to be able to laugh again with her friend.

"No, I don't think they are willing to part with their beds so early in the morning," she chuckled.

When Ginny gave her a disarming grin, Tristane felt her heart stopped for a second.

 _Wait, what? Am I getting sick now?_ Tristane was slowly panicking.

"Are you alright, Tris?"

Tristane shook her thoughts away. She was fine and healthy.

"Yeah, I am. I would like to apologise to you for being such an ass, Gin. I'm sorry. I know you guys were worried for me and were just being protective. I mean, I'm the new kid here, and you had just finished a terrible war, and my family and house were heavily involved in it, yet I'm being an egghead and not really paying attention to my own security. I'm sorry, Gin. I hope you still want to be my friend."

Tristane looked at her feet, not daring to meet the redhead's eyes. She was afraid of the incoming anger, incoming outburst. She did not want to see anger and disappointment in the redhead's eyes.

But Ginny had a different idea. She hugged Tristane tightly, to the latter's surprise.

"We're still young, I'm pretty sure we're encouraged to be foolish now and again," she breathed into the Slytherin's ear. "Friends fight often, so don't worry about it, yeah?"

Tristane choked back a tear. _Why am I being so weird suddenly?_ She just nodded and hugged Ginny tightly.

"Want to fly with me? The sunrise's excellent, I promise you."

Tristane nodded again. She had never had proper friends previously and was grateful that she was not losing this particular friendship.

Ginny helped Tristane mount the broom, with Ginny sitting in front of the taller Slytherin. While the redhead did not mind to sit behind, she would like to see what was in front of her when she controlled the broom. They took off, with Tristane holding tightly to Ginny and burying her head into the redhead's hair. Tristane found that she missed Ginny's smell.

 _Is this what real friendship feels like_? The Slytherin wondered to herself.

Tristane was glad she took Luna's veiled orders. She was starting to enjoy flying (well, hitching a ride on someone else's broomstick) and viewed the beautiful open world up above in the skies. Ginny flew them both over the highest tower of the castle, and hovered there. The sun was slowly rising over the horizon and the two witches enjoyed it in silence.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? As I promised," Ginny whispered, startling Tristane who had rested her head on the redhead's shoulder without realising what she was doing.

"The only reason it's beautiful is because I'm sharing it with you," the Slytherin blurted out without meaning to.

Tristane blushed and was kicking herself mentally.

 _What the hell, girl? Now she's going to think of me as the girl version of a very corny Draco Malfoy. Ugh._

Ginny was thankful Tristane could not see her, for her face was steadily matching the shade of the colour of her red hair. Ginny opted to not comment on it and kept quiet, unsure on what to do. Normally, it would be her to say weird things that make people comfortable but this time, it was the other way around. Karma was _the_ bitch, it seemed.

They stayed there for some time, before Ginny's stomach rumbled, announcing that it was time for breakfast. Ginny landed them in front of the Gryffindor changing room. In the silence, Tristane followed the redhead before realising that Ginny went into one of the cubicles and started to turn on the shower. Tristane panicked, unsure on what was the proper thing to do. Was it normal for friends to wait for each other showering? If so, what would a normal friend do in such situation?

Tristane decided to sit on the bench farthest from the shower cubicle and faced the entrance.

"Pirate, you're not running away, are you?" Ginny called from the cubicle.

"No, I'm just sitting here. Won't disappear, don't worry."

"Good, 'cause I forgot to take a towel. Can you grab one from my locker and pass it to me?"

Tristane gulped and resigned herself to Fate. There was nobody else around for her to delegate that task to. She had no idea why that simple request would make her feel so… weird inside. She sighed and looked around, searching for the locker with 'Weasley' written on it. Once she found it, she opened the locker and rummaged around, looking for a clean towel. Tristane was not surprised to find the locker to be messy. That, somehow, was very Ginny.

"Are you planning to make me walk out dripping wet and naked, you naughty girl?" Ginny called out again, this time her voice teasing.

"What - no! I've got it, just a sec!"

The Slytherin grabbed a clean towel and hurried to the cubicle. She closed her eyes and thrust the towel into the waiting hand of Ginny. She did not see the redhead's head peeking out and looked at her.

"My dear Pirate, I'm pretty sure your one eye can't see me properly," Ginny chuckled. "If only Hermione was as thoughtful as you."

Tristane's eyebrows raised.

"Hermione? What?"

"She barged in to the bathroom when I was having my much-needed bath, without caring my gorgeously naked form," the redhead's voice was muffled, she was probably drying her hair. "It took her quite some time to realise I was naked. Don't you wish you were her, that lucky girl?"

Tristane knew Ginny was just being her usual teasing self, but could not help feeling slight jealousy and blushed.

 _They're best friends, of course that happens_ , the Slytherin told herself. _You're just an ordinary friend to Ginny, it will take time before you can be counted as a close friend_.

"Alright, ready? I'm starving I could eat a Hippogriff!"

Ginny dragged Tristane to the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. The latter's appearance was a shock to many in that particular table, especially those who knew there was a rift within the Pirates. Draco stood and hugged his cousin.

"I'm sorry, Tristane, I was a fool. I won't treat you like a little child anymore. Please forgive me," he whispered.

"Draco… I… can't… breathe…"

Draco let go of his death grip and grinned at his cousin. But before Tristane could say anything, Blaise appeared and hugged her.

"Group hug, people! Captain Hook's back!" Blaise announced, not letting go of the poor girl.

Draco, Ginny, Hermione, and the rest of the Pirates jumped on the let's-hug-Tristane-to-death, mainly relieved to see the one-eyed witch unharmed and was in good health.

"Alright, let's eat, guys! I'm losing important body mass by the second!" Ginny exclaimed, already starting to heap a pile of food on her plate.

Tristane laughed, realising she was missing this scene. She settled between Ginny and Blaise, and grabbed a piece of toast.

"Well, well, Weaselette, I've got to say, you're skilled with girls," Pansy, sitting opposite of Ginny, next to Hermione and Draco, said.

Ginny looked puzzled.

"Yesterday it was Granger here, today it's our beloved darling Tristane," Pansy explained. To her side, Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Rumour has it that you've lured me away from this prat next to me here and that you've been after me for quite some time," Hermione grumbled. "And oh, you masterminded the breakup between Ron and I. Seems like you are an evil witch queen or something, and both Ron and this prat are the misguided loverboys."

Blaise, Theodore, and Neville could not hold their laughter. Hermione shot them a dirty look.

"Why, my princess, we both know that no evil news may break the bond that envelopes our soul," Draco suddenly kissed Hermione's cheek, and the whole Slytherin table hooted. Hermione, as predicted, blushed.

"And there's no way my innocent angel could ever lead anyone astray," Daphne cut in with a sing song voice, feeding mashed potatoes to Ginny, who raised her eyebrows but played along.

"Plus, my gorgeous lady here would never be easily lured by strange evil women," Blaise added, trying to wrap an arm around Tristane but hastily retreated when Draco gave him a death stare.

Tristane laughed. She missed these guys.

* * *

The man with the yellow umbrella was hurrying along London's busiest muggle road, despite the pouring rain. He kept on glancing over his shoulder, wary of anyone following him. He was right to be extremely cautious, for there was a certain curly-haired blonde trailing him. She was forced to wear dark clothing, which was distasteful, and hid her brilliant blonde hair under an ugly hoodie to prevent him from recognising her. She had to keep a distance and tread carefully, far enough to not be detected, but near enough to not lose of her prey. This particular game of cat and mouse was an old one to her, a game she was familiar with and enjoyed immensely.

The target paused in front of a brothel which was disguised as a motel (which ordinary motel sign would read "extremely talented masseuse can be found here"?). As was informed by one of her reliable sources, he entered the place. She giggled. It did not take much imagination for the reason of him being there. She took a deep breath and slowly approached the building. Not for the first time, she wished she was a Metamorphmagus. That would easily solve her disguising problems! But no matter, she had other tricks up her sleeve.

Just as she was passing an alley, a hand grabbed her and she was pushed to the alley wall roughly, a hand clamped over her mouth. She was enraged and kicked herself for being careless. Was this one of the man's underlings, supposedly protecting him from people like her? The alley was dark and she could not make out the form in front of her. Could she reach her wand in time and bind her assailant?

Before she could make a decision, the hand over her mouth lifted and a pair of lips crushed hers. She knew those lips. She recognised the texture, the feel. Her rage dissipated, replaced by excitement.

"Jerome! It has been quite some time," she purred at the man. "I could not recognise you just now."

The handsome young man placed his forehead on hers, grinning happily.

"I am most delighted that you remember me, Rita. I'm honoured."

"Who could ever forget that wonderful lips of yours, you young rogue? I would love to stay and chat longer, but I am currently on a hunt. Unless my wonderful young man would like to join me?"

Jerome shook his head, his expression turned serious.

"I'm sorry to barge in on your hunt, my lady, but this is an emergency. Whatever money you're going to make from this hunt, I am offering you double to ditch it and take another job instead."

Rita cocked her head to one side, the business gear in her mind turning.

"That man I am hunting is one of the candidates for our dear Minister's Defense Director and I am so close on getting a juicy story. Are you sure you can pay twice of what I will be getting for this one?"

Jerome chuckled.

"I can't, but my benefactor can and he will," he answered earnestly. "I promise you, it'll be worth it. I can guarantee you the pay is fantastic. Plus, you can finally exact your revenge."

If the promised payment was not enough to entice Rita, that would surely attract her attention.

"Do you know what you are saying, Jerome?" she whispered. She had told him once, some time ago, of her lifelong promise of vengeance. She hoped he was not dangling a rotten carrot just to get her to do whatever emergency job he had in mind. She had no wish to turn his life upside down, her beautiful Jerome.

"Yes." He nodded with confidence. "Come with me, my dear Rita. I've never disappointed you, and I will not start to now."

She made a decision. Even if in the end she would be disappointed, at least he was excellent in bed.

She nodded.

Jerome Apparated her to a bedroom, one she recognised. It was Jerome's bedroom in a small apartment in Sussex, a place where they often used in the past for their secret rendezvous. He had been seventeen then, the first time they met, and she had been…oh well, _much_ older than him. She was in a café in Paris, of all places, taking a day off from her demanding job, and he appeared out of nowhere, cheekily taking the seat next to hers and struck up a conversation. An hour later, he Apparated them to his bedroom, not caring whether she would be frightened with that ability. Fortunately, she was a witch and therefore very intimate with that ability. She supposed that at that age, Jerome was packed with hormones and just needed an outlet. Over the years, they had been spending a lot of time in that bedroom, each understanding that the other was just a friend in need. She was fairly sure he had others besides her, but strangely, she never bothered to pry and perhaps, not wanting to know. Him being a mystery made him more appealing.

He undressed her and they got to know each other again after not seeing each other for quite some time. It was just like how she remembered it, full of lightning and explosions. Jerome may look gentle and kind, but there was a ferocious savagery hidden beneath.

When Rita finally regained her senses, she asked, "What's this job about?"

Jerome nibbled at her neck, chuckling.

"Just like how I remember you, always straight to the point when it comes to business. Oh well, you did turn down your big story for this, which I am forever grateful for. Let's see, where shall I start?" He rested his cheek on top of her head. "My benefactor has this little… troublesome itch that would not go away. He would be happier if her, ah, public image is destroyed before she can even build one. Also, she is involved with your two most hated persons in this world."

Rita raised her eyebrows. "Do you mean…"

Jerome nodded. "Yes, this itch is a niece to Bellatrix Black and a friend to Hermione Granger."

He paused, letting that sink in.

Memories took Rita to a time, long and forgotten (well, mostly forgotten), years before she was a person of power in the British Wizarding society. She was eleven, like the rest of her classmates, and was Sorted to Ravenclaw. She thought she had found happiness back then, with a house famed for knowledge, wit, and intelligence.

Learning was her purpose in life. Seeking knowledge was the destiny bestowed upon her. There was not a day where she did not spend time in the library, absorbing as much knowledge as she could. Her housemates understood that thirst she had - they themselves were thirsty for the same substance that gave them life.

But there was a girl, a classmate, from Slytherin, who made fun of her, made fun of the beliefs she held dear to her heart. The heartless bitch was Bellatrix Black who seemed set from the beginning to make her life hell. Bellatrix never cared for knowledge, yet could easily rival her in every single class they took. Bellatrix flaunted her brains, her brilliance, and looked down upon the Ravenclaw house, the house Rita was placed in. Rita took that as a personal insult and swore she would one day take that bitch down the pedestal and put her in her proper place.

Bellatrix never cared for the truth, never cared for knowledge, and Rita intended to take that path which Bellatrix would not tread. At the age of twelve, Rita wanted to be a journalist, uncovering great truths and show them to the world, making a point to Bellatrix that without her, without Rita, Bellatrix would never be able to learn of those great truths. So young Rita worked hard to achieve her dreams - learning spells and skills she felt would be crucial to assist her in uncovering those great truths.

But her life was shattered when she was thrust in the real world. Rita's first year as a journalist was her most frustrating and disappointing year she ever had in her whole career. She had been adamant to report the truth as it was, and to her disappointment, not only her superiors twisted the reports she wrote to suit their agendas, the public actually preferred those twisted words!

"Truth is subjective, Skeeter," her immediate supervisor sneered when she protested. "The average person do not want to hear some mundane stuff - their lives are already boring as they are. They want some excitement, so give them that. Truth, when viewed from different angles, are perceived differently. Use your brains, Skeeter. I'm sure you can understand this."

That realisation shook her to the very core. Was Bellatrix, who never stopped haunting her dreams, had a point in not revering the truth? In not caring for knowledge? Rita fell into depression for several months before she picked herself up and decided that if the world wanted a different sort of truth, she would deliver it. She could not possibly lose to Bellatrix. That bitch would not be the one to show her something new - Rita would be the one to do that.

She worked hard to master the skills of delivering truth the way the public wanted, and to her joy, she succeeded. Countless people were destroyed in the process, but the public demanded blood and she delivered. Where Bellatrix's name was whispered with hatred and fear, Rita's name became a beacon of truth to those who could take it. Her haters cowed in fear, knowing that with just a swish of a quill, they would be destroyed instantly. Rita was just like the Goddess of Fate, deciding who lived, and who died. There was nobody who could protect themselves effectively from her. Even the great Albus Dumbledore - ha, that old coot! - took deep wounds.

Rita remembered her humiliation at the hands of one annoying Hermione Granger, best friend to the pathetic Boy Who Lived. That irritating know-it-all managed to best her once, but Rita swore she would take revenge. If this was her opportunity to do so, she would take it. She could besmirch the names of the Blacks and this Granger, and uncover another great truth for the public.

A smile slowly formed on her lips.

"Tell me, Jerome," she purred," what is this little itch's name?"

Jerome grinned maliciously. He knew Rita would never turn this down.

"Tristane Black."


	13. Chapter 13

_**Happy Fri-yay, everyone! I've had a crazy week and am feeling so exhausted. But managed to watch Deadpool last night (story-wise, it was ok. But it was crude and funny enough) and going for a basketball match (to watch, not to play) this evening. Plus there's a multicultural festival event this weekend, so I'll be stuffing my stomach with food tomorrow. I'm getting fat :(**_

 _ **Have a great weekend, guys!**_

 _ **JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.**_

 _ **I hope you are still enjoying the story. :)**_

* * *

 **CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

There was a general excitement in the castle that both put a smile on Hermione's face and irritated her at the same time. The notice for Hogsmeade Weekend had been put up by the Headmistress. Most students were excited at that prospect as during the War, such outings were discontinued. The student body speculated which shops were still around, which shops would still be recognisable, and which new shops would be set up at the village. Hermione could see that slowly, Hogwarts was healing. It was as if with just the thought of going to Hogsmeade lifted a huge burden from each student's shoulder. The general feelings of suspicion, dread, vigilance, worry, and other depressing things had dissipated a little. That was good. All of them needed to heal and move on with their lives. However, that would also mean that general mischief rose, which irritated Hermione, as Head Girl, to no end.

On the day the announcement was made, it happened to be her turn for patrol duty and she caught not one, or two, but nine students lurking in the shadows at night at various corners and overheard them planning pranks and other mischiefs. _Nine_! It would not surprise Hermione if Fred was their patron saint or something. She was highly tempted to read their minds, but did not do it. After all she had been through, she was not going to go against her ethics. They refused to tell her and the Headmistress what was their exact plan, and that frustrated Hermione. McGonagall seemed unaffected by it and just gave them a simple detention. The Headmistress seemed slightly happy that students were returning to their old, happy selves.

Hermione grumbled endlessly at the injustice of it all (she grumbled for the sake of grumbling) and was still grumbling when she entered her quarters and threw herself on the sofa next to Draco. Draco, Ginny, and Tristane stared at her.

"You're going to die old and alone, without family and friends to mourn you," Draco stated.

That stopped Hermione's tirade. She was confused.

"What?"

"My mother always said that to me when I was little. That frightened me and made me try to keep on looking bright and cheerful."

Hermione and Ginny laughed. Tristane looked at them with mild amusement while Draco looked offended.

"My mother can be scary, alright?" he huffed.

"We're not doubting you about that. We're doubting you about you looking bright and cheerful," Ginny said, starting to laugh again.

"I'll have you know, Tristane, that your beloved cousin here always had a frown or a mean face," Hermione wiped her tears.

"The first time I hear him laugh genuinely, I was amazed. Miracles do happen!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Living in that dreadful house must've been putting the wrong smile on your face," Hermione chuckled and then kept quiet.

Nobody seemed willing to make a comment – memories of Hermione's torture at Malfoy Mansion were still fresh on both Hermione and Draco's minds, and Ginny did not dare to tread on dangerous grounds. Tristane had no idea why the atmosphere suddenly tensed and felt awkward, but she sensed that it would be wise to not go into that.

"Draco and Ginny here were telling me about Hogsmeade, 'Mione," Tristane changed the topic and used Hermione's nickname. "Which is your favourite shop?"

Hermione was glad with the change of topic. Draco was avoiding her eyes but she could see that he slightly relaxed. That made her slightly angry. Why should _he_ be the one feeling relieved? It was not as if he was the one at the end of Bella's drawn wand, facing a cruel and deranged lunatic! But she was not in the mood to confront Draco about the horrors they were involved in, so she let it be. For the time being.

She turned her mind to the memories of Hogsmeade – before the Battle of Hogwarts. Memories of that Battle saddened her, especially the numerous deaths just to end one maniac.

"My favourite is Scrivenshaft's – it's a quills store. The sell all sorts of quills and parchments, from the weirdest to the most gorgeous ones you could ever want." She was starting to get excited, eager to visit the quaint little shop again. It had been quite some time. She hoped it was not destroyed and was still operating.

Draco sniggered.

"Trust Hermione here to pick a boring shop as her favourite."

Hermione threw a cushion at him, which he dodged easily.

"Would you guys show me around the village?" Tristane asked, stopping a fight between the two Heads before it could start.

"Sure, except for the girly stuff," Draco said.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Really, the big bad Malfoy boy is afraid to be seen going into shops selling girly stuff?"

"I have a reputation to upkeep," he refused to budge.

"I don't mind showing you around, but I, like Draco, am not keen to go to shops selling _girly_ stuff," Hermione admitted.

Ginny snorted.

"Oh for fuck's sake," the redhead exclaimed, "I'll show you around the village, including the scary shops selling _girly stuff_. I suppose these two lovers needed some lovey-dovey time to themselves."

A cushion war ensued.

* * *

True to his word, Draco refused to enter any shop he deemed to be 'selling girly stuff', to Tristane's annoyance. At least Ginny would bring her around in the afternoon, so that was alright. For the moment, Tristane was enjoying her hot cup of chocolate with Draco and Narcissa.

"Drake, why are there no other students here?" The establishment was filled with obviously wealthy middle-aged patrons.

"Tristane dear, I doubt the average Hogwarts students have enough galleons with them to even purchase a cup of tea," Narcissa said as-a-matter-of-factly, answering for Draco.

While Tristane knew Narcissa was just stating facts, the one-eyed girl could not help but feeling uncomfortable with the topic of wealth. To be specific, their families' wealth. Altair, having ran away from the Blacks, brought her up nearly penniless. They were not destitute, and Tristane always had enough to eat, but she barely had new things. From what she understood about the Weasleys, they were rich compared to her previous life. She wondered idly how much her drink costed – there were no pricing stated on the menu – and was not sure whether it would be appropriate to inquire its price. Something about being a Black and having two Malfoys with her warned her that it would be a foolish endeavour.

Narcissa must have sensed this, for she patted Tristane's hand and said kindly, "Don't fret too much about it, dear. You can have your meals here thrice daily for the rest of your life and it will not make a dent to your vault."

Tristane nodded her head, unsure whether she should feel relieved or not. On one hand, it was good to know that she would still be alright even if she became jobless for the rest of her life. On the other, she was worried that she would waste all that money unnecessarily. Galleons accumulated over multiple generations gone to waste courtesy of her would not be a funny thing.

"So tell me, how do you like schooling so far?"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Mother! We both wrote you weekly and I'm pretty sure she'd tell you how she feels about Hogwarts in her letters," he whined.

Narcissa touched his cheek with the tips of her fingers.

"Come now, Draco, amuse your old mother," she said fondly. "It harms nobody to retell me of the same things."

Draco nodded. Tristane knew he could never say no to his mother. Narcissa's fondness and gentleness reminded Tristane of Altair and she felt sad that he was no longer alive.

"Tristane is fine, she is healthy and well as you can see," he said dutifully.

"Hogwarts is incredible, Aunt Cissa! So many things I have never seen before, so many new books I could read, and there are a lot of nice people in the castle. I have told you this before, but I've made some friends who are pretty great! I'm not sure whether you know them or not, because you never indicated that in your letters, but they're quite famous," Tristane said rather excitedly. "They're heroes from the recent war, and one of them is Hermione Granger."

"Oh yes, I do know her," Narcissa said coolly, sipping her tea. Tristane could not miss the slight tremor in her voice. Tristane wanted to ask, but there were many questions she had in her mind, and wondered how to prioritise them. Tristane decided to just ask whichever first came to her mind.

"Aunt Cissa, I heard Professor Tonks is our close relative," she stated casually. Draco choked on his drink.

Narcissa hesitated. She glanced at her son, who just stared at his cup. She sighed, realising that it would be better for her to tell Tristane rather than the young witch finding out from rumours, which she most probably had anyway, since she was basically asking a question.

"Yes, she is closely related to us," Narcissa said slowly. "In fact, she was my sister." She hesitated, taking a sip. She had no idea where to start and how to even explain. Truth be told, she was fervently hoping she never needed to get into this topic at all till the day she died, but Fate was seldom kind. Tristane waited patiently, looking at her expectantly. Draco kept his face impassive, and Narcissa was thankful for that. Her son had always been her strength through the darkest times in her life, and he would never stop being her rock. Where even Lucius failed to be there for her, Draco never deserted her. She knew how much he hated Potter, but her son said nothing about her betrayal to their Lord, and stood by her decision. People may think the worst of her son, but Narcissa was certain Draco would even walk through hell with her if she ever ask. How many sons would do that for their mothers?

"There used to be the three of us: Bellatrix, Andromeda, and I. Three sisters. Meda, well, she chose to turn her back on us and left us for a Muggle. She betrayed us and stopped being our sister," Narcissa explained, her mind remembering that miserable event.

"How did she betrayed you exactly, Aunt Cissa?" Tristane asked carefully.

"She ran off marrying her beloved Muggle." Seeing the confused look on her niece's face, Narcissa added, "That caused a huge problem for both Bella and I."

Draco squeezed Narcissa's hand, giving support and encouragement. Narcissa flashed a grateful smile at him.

"You see Tristane, my father was very conservative. He was the typical traditional pure-blooded patriarch. The Blacks came from a long line of purebloods, and the family lore hinted at our ancestors having involvement in building the Stonehenge as well as inter-marrying with families of ancient Pharaohs," there was no emotion in Narcissa's voice. "It was drilled into us from our births that we must continue this old and noble way of life. Being pure and unblemished are the definition of our existence. When Andromeda ran off with her Muggle husband, both Bella and I took the blame. Well, mostly Bella, because she was the eldest. At that time, we were trying to help Bella to get out of her arranged marriage to Rodolphus. Andromeda even knew it but she insisted to do what she wanted. I ended up losing two sisters, because Bella's marriage to Rodolphus was immediately done, and he destroyed her sanity. I was quite lucky, as both Lucius and I were in love with each other, which was a rarity in a pureblood marriage."

"Had Andromeda kept her relationship really quiet, I'm sure Bella would still be sane. And, as much as I dislike the idea of my sister marrying a Muggle, I'm certain both Bella and I would be able to ship Andromeda and her husband off somewhere far away where my parents would never know of their relationship. She chose to left her sisters, Tristane. I stayed for Bella's sake. Which did nothing much, apparently, 'cause she's still insane and dead," Narcissa said bitterly. "I do not know what rubbish people are telling you about Andromeda, but I hope you do not jump to conclusions and judge me badly for choosing Bella over Meda."

Tristane nodded. "I don't know much about our family dynamics and about this world, Aunt Cissa. I do not want to make any judgements. I don't think it's my place to do that. You're my aunt, and Andromeda Tonks is related to me by blood. If she treats me like a niece, then I shall treat her like an aunt. That's the approach I would take, I think."

Narcissa smiled. "You're going to come fully into your inheritance as the Black matriarch soon, Tristane. Do what you feel best."

"Even if I acknowledge Andromeda Tonks as my aunt publicly?"

Narcissa was quiet for a moment. "Yes," she said quietly, "even if you acknowledge her publicly as your aunt. I will still stand by your side."

Tristane hugged her. "Thank you," she whispered.

"It's nice seeing you, Aunt Cissa, but I have to go now. Draco refused to show me certain parts of Hogsmeade and so I'm going to check them out with Ginny."

Narcissa gave her son the Look.

"I don't want to enter any girly shops, mother!" he defended himself.

Tristane laughed while Narcissa just sighed.

"Plus, I think you both need some mother-and-son time," the one-eyed girl said, rising from her seat.

"Draco, how are things with her?" Narcissa asked quietly, watching the disappearing figure of Tristane.

"Aside from the attack weeks ago, there's no indication she's being targeted, mother," Draco said. "Have you figured out who were those masked assailants?" He was referring to the masked figures attacking Tristane right outside of Malfoy Manor when she first appeared. While he did not manage to kill or capture any of them, Draco remembered enough details to launch an investigation.

Narcissa shook her head. "So far nobody recognised the emblem you described, Draco. It seems that they are not from Britain. I couldn't ask my overseas contacts, as the Ministry is still watching me."

Draco swore, which prompted a scolding from Narcissa. He was frustrated. How was he supposed to protect Tristane when they had no clue who they were up against?

"I wonder whether that know-it-all brunette would be able to solve this mystery," he grumbled.

"That… is actually a brilliant idea, Draco! You are both friends with that Granger girl, aren't you? Why don't you enlist her help? She is considered a hero, and the Ministry is not watching her like a hawk. She can prod and ask questions without raising suspicion."

Draco groaned. "Are you serious, mother?"

"Yes," Narcissa had a determined face, a face Draco recognised that meant a plan was forming in her head that she would not stop pursuing. He observed that both Narcissa and Hermione made the same expression when they were planning something. "Would you be a lamb and do me a favour, my darling? Please kindly bring miss Granger here and invite her for a drink with us."

Draco was shocked. He did not see that coming.

"Are you sure, mother?" he was quite worried. He knew both women disliked each other.

Narcissa nodded.

"Now, Draco. Do not waste time."

He sighed. He could not win against his mother. He raised from his chair, gave Narcissa a peck on the cheek, and braved the windy Hogsmeade to search for Hermione. He prayed to the gods above that he made the right decision and was not bringing a war upon himself.

* * *

Hermione half-dragged a sleepy Ginny toward the castle gate where a throng of students were queuing to be let to Hogsmeade. The Head Girl was impatient. She missed her best friend and could not wait to see him again, even if for only a couple of hours. Harry had owled her the night before, apologizing that he could only get a couple of hours' leave and even that he was on-call. There was something going on and he was part of that 'something'. Hermione was not surprised. Harry was a walking, living magnet for trouble. She wanted to spend time with him before he would be drowning in his adventures chasing the bad guys.

They braved the chilling wind – the weather had been terribly unfriendly that day – and entered the Three Broomsticks. Hermione spotted Harry sitting at the far corner of the room, waving happily at them both. Hermione returned the wave enthusiastically while Ginny grumbled about the weather being perfect for sleeping in.

"Harry! It's good to see you!" Hermione hugged her bestfriend, feeling very happy.

"I've missed you, 'Mione. I'm glad to see you again," her bestfriend muffled into her hair.

Ginny decided she was not interested in such a teary affair and went to grab drinks for both Hermione and her.

"You look… different." Hermione studied Harry and noted he was more muscular, somehow taller, and looked more… matured. With a pang, she realised Harry never had an enjoyable childhood and was forced to be an adult earlier than he should.

"Is that a bad thing?" he sounded worried.

"No, it's not," Hermione decided. "It suits you, Harry. I'm pretty sure your mad fans will get crazier if they know how you look like now."

Harry laughed.

"It's part of the reason I decided to become an Auror, 'Mione," he confided. "With bad guys, I can easily defend myself. With crazy fans, I can't freely Stun them, can I?"

"You need to get an equally crazy girlfriend soon, Harry. That tends to help," Ginny commented, sitting next to Hermione. She gave Hermione a Butterbeer while for herself, a Firewhisky. "It helps to warm me," she defended herself when the Head Girl stared at her.

Harry laughed at that.

"I missed this," he admitted. "So how are you girls keeping?"

Hermione told Harry about Tristane, about her new and strange friendship with the Slytherins, about the Gryffindors' new attitude toward her, and the words Andromeda and Fleur said.

Harry frowned at all the information dumped on him.

"Wait, what? Why would the Gryffindors do that to you? Discrimination and isolation were the main reasons why Voldemort could rise. I can't imagine how you, a Muggleborn, became best buds with the Slytherins. And I'm very suspicious of this Tristane Black," Harry commented in one go.

"Don't forget Narcissa's willingness to bake cookies daily, sending them to Tristane, and letting us, well mostly me, to eat them," Ginny added. "Those cookies are delicious Harry. You must try them one day!"

Harry looked at the redhead as if she had sprouted another head.

"Harry, do the Auror department have any libraries?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded. "We have a reading list, 'Mione. To ensure we have a vast knowledge and able to handle any situation thrown at us. It's one of the reasons why Ron couldn't keep up. You're not there with us to feed us information. I'm just glad you went with me to defeat Voldemort. I don't think we would have won without you."

Hermione blushed.

"Why did you ask?"

"Can you help us to find out more about Tristane or the Black family? Especially Tristane's grandfather. Perhaps the Auror's library holds better information about families affiliated with the dark path," Hermione explained.

"I can do that," Harry said slowly. "Although I can't promise how fast I can get it done. I can prod around though, 'Mione, and if there are books that may interest you, I think I can get you access to them. Sometimes, our hero status is useful."

"Yeah, like getting alcohol for free," Ginny sniggered. "I paid for our drinks!" she hastily added when Hermione looked like she was going to burst into a long lecture.

"Honestly, Gin, you and Ron can be so alike," Hermione grumbled, crossing her arms.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"We're siblings, what do you expect?"

They eased into a comfortable chat, which all of them missed. Hermione was saddened when Harry told them that Ron was barely on speaking terms with him. The temperamental Weasley was still feeling angry at Harry for not quitting Auror training together with him. Hermione knew Ron had a good heart, but he can be a jerk sometimes.

"I'm sorry to cut your short trip shorter, Harry, but I have to excuse myself," Ginny said, looking at the time. Time disappear quickly when you least expect it. "I promised Tristane that I would show her some places in Hogsmeade."

"Well, I do need to leave now as well anyway, my team is on a case," Harry said apologetically. "There are still some Death Eaters on the run and my team is tasked on rounding them up. I'm sorry I can't stay longer, ladies, but I will write to you both soon."

They hugged and Harry promised to visit again soon. The three of them parted ways: Harry Disapparated to wherever he needed to be; Ginny went to meet Tristane; Hermione wondering whether she should drop by Scrivenshaft's and get a new quill or Honeydukes and indulge herself with some sweets.

Hermione decided to head to Scrivenshaft's. There was nothing wrong with getting a new quill even though her current one was still in good condition.

She was just entering the shop when her hand was grabbed. Surprised, she grabbed her wand and spun, pointing the tip of her wand to her attacker's neck.

"You prat! I could've Stunned you," Hermione smacked Draco's hand off.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, wasn't meaning to frighten you," Draco raised his hands, showing he was unarmed.

Hermione took a deep breath.

"Do not do that again or I'll smack your head," she warned.

He solemnly promised. Hermione narrowed her eyes. She was not convinced. The prat would still continue being a prat, she was sure of it.

"Hermione, I need you to come with me," he stated seriously.

"Is Tristane alright?" she was instantly on alert mode, glancing around her.

"She's fine, she went to meet with Weaslette. My mother would like to have a drink with you."

Hermione was suspicious.

"If she is angry that both Ginny and I have eaten her cookies, send her our apologies and I promise we won't touch them in future." Why would his mother want to have a drink with a Mudblood?

Draco looked uncomfortable but held his ground.

"She doesn't mind about that, actually. Look, it's about Tristane."

Hermione pondered. She was curious, but was she ready to face the woman who allowed a teenager to be tortured in her own home?

"Please."

Draco Malfoy was pleading. Wow. This must be really important, so Hermione decided to go. She nodded and allowed the blond to led her to the more posh area of the village.

* * *

While most students and villagers ignored the two students, a pair of eyes were trained on them. The owner of those eyes decided to trail after them.

Rita Skeeter, a self-declared investigative journalist, was in her disguise mode. When it came to dealing with that Granger girl, Rita decided to avoid changing into her Animagus, certain that the Granger girl would realise it in no time. Rita had taken Polyjuice an hour before, transforming to a middle-aged man with a plain face and greying hair. He was Gerald, a tobacco trader she met in Havana, and they spent time together for a couple of days before they went on their separate ways. Aside from his name and occupation, Rita had no idea who he was. But he was quite satisfying, and a gentleman to boot, so she had kept a flock of his hair. Time and time again, the Polyjuice Potion served her investigating needs.

Rita/Gerald followed the pair of students through the heavy wind and was glad when she/he saw them entering an expensive tea house. The place would be warm and she/he would not need to be amongst a throng of annoying students.

She/he scanned the room furtively and took a seat a couple of tables away from the Malfoys and the Granger girl. Rita/Gerald danced internally to see the three of them sitting together – the article she/he was going to write would be a best seller. She/he was contemplating about writing a book, a biography of sorts, on that idiot Granger know-it-all. The younger witch would finally see how the real world works – people cared more about allegations and rumours than good deeds.

Rita/Gerald ordered tea and some expensive biscuits – money from Jerome's benefactor allowed her to live leisurely for the time being. For a moment, Rita/Gerald wondered whether Jerome would be interested to experiment with her taking form of another person. Was Jerome that versatile? She/he made a mental note to find out the next time Jerome invites her/him to his bed.

"…what are you implying, Mrs. Malfoy?"

Rita/Gerald heard the Granger girl hissing angrily at Narcissa Malfoy, who looked calm. Her son was trying to keep the noise down. Rita/Gerald remembered that boy – he helped her/him, a few years ago, to get information on Potter. She/he felt a slight fondness at the boy – what was his name? Draco. Draco was his name. She/he decided to write slightly more favourable toward the boy, considering he helped her a lot. Rita/Gerald took out an Extendable Ear which she bought from the Weasley's joke shop (in disguise, of course). That invention helped her gained so much valuable information. A pity the Weasleys were in league with Potter and that Granger girl.

"Miss Granger, as a mother, I am concerned toward any of his girlfriend's intentions. I would like to know whether your intentions toward my son are pure," Narcissa gave the Granger girl a haughty look.

Rita/Gerald hid a smirk. _Eat that, you bitch! There are people on higher levels than your know-it-all attitude._

The Malfoy boy rested a hand on the Granger girl's arm, trying to pacify his girlfriend.

"Mrs. Malfoy, I do not have any malicious intention toward Draco," the Granger girl said icily. "I am not after your money, if that's what you're afraid of. My family is nowhere near the poverty line, and I can assure you I do not like dirty money."

This time Draco rested a hand on his mother's arm who was visibly angry at the insult. Rita/Gerald wanted to snort. _Yeah, they all say that_ , she/he thought to her/himself. _At the end of the day, money is always the reason, Miss Know It All_.

"Mother, please," Draco softly pleaded.

Narcissa gritted her teeth but relented. Rita/Gerald admired the woman's love for her son. Even for such an annoying little bitchy girlfriend of his, Narcissa would strive to make her son happy. What a tragic romance – a mother trying to protect her son from money-hungry sluts, but the son was bewitched and apparently had fallen deep into the rabbit hole.

"Mrs. Malfoy, I am here under the impression that you wanted to talk with me about Tristane. Since I am certain neither of us like the other, shall we just get to the heart of the matter?"

Rita/Gerald sharpened her/his focus. _This_ was the gold nugget!

"Miss Granger, Draco will explain you the specifics, but I would like to ask for your help," Narcissa said coolly. "I am made to understand that you have befriended my niece and she has taken a liking for you. I am merely being cautious and perhaps a little overprotective of her, but I believe she may be in danger. Due to my circumstances, I am unable to delve deeper into this particular mystery. However, I believe you are our best bet. Are you willing to help my niece?"

The Granger girl looked at Narcissa suspiciously. Draco leaned closer to his girlfriend and whispered something to her ear.

"Very well," the know-it-all nodded stiffly. "If that's all, I'll excuse myself."

She stood abruptly and left without waiting for a reply. Narcissa looked at her son.

"I'm sorry, Draco," she said softly. "I knew it would not be a pleasant talk but I intended to keep it calm, at the very least. It's just that, there's this news about the both of you together and I'm afraid she's using you, that's all. The both of you used to be arch enemies yet now are in love. I couldn't stop myself. Please forgive me, Draco."

"Mother, she's not my girlfriend," he said wearily.

Narcissa arched an eyebrow.

"You don't have to lie to your own mother, Draco," she reprimanded. "I know you, my son, and I can see how much the both of you care for each other. At least now I know she is genuine with you. I may not like it, and I am certain your father would flip if he finds out about the both of you, but if she is the one who makes you happy, you have my blessings."

Draco looked surprised.

"Wait, you don't mind if I am dating a Mud – uh, Muggleborn?"

"Whoever makes you happy makes me happy as well," Narcissa confirmed. "I have lost two sisters due to love stories, or for the lack of it, and I don't want to lose you as well. Be with whoever you want. You have my blessings, Draco."

Draco was speechless and he hugged his mother.

Rita/Gerald left them that way and exited the store. She/he wanted to search for a certain one-eyed Black heiress to add to her/his story, but after scouring the village, she/he could not find the damn teen witch. That did not matter. Rita/Gerald was resourceful and her/his current information was enough for the first attack.

Feeling the Polyjuice effect wearing off, she/he Disapparated to her/his office.


	14. Chapter 14

**_How's everyone doing? I hope all of you had a great week. I'm excited for end of July, because I've pre-ordered the eight Harry Potter book (without even bothering to read what it's about before pre-ordering lol. I was too excited). I'm glad it's Fri-yay, and definitely hoping that the weekend takes its time before giving reign to another week of working (why was I so eager to grow up fast?)._**

 _ **Anyway, here's another chapter. I hope you still enjoy this story and forgive me for any mistakes, especially grammatical ones.**_

 _ **JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter world.**_

 _ **Have a lovely weekend, everyone.**_

* * *

 **CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

 _ **THE RISE OF A DARK LADY?**_

 _He Who Must Not Be Named was just defeated recently but another is more than ready to take over his place. The Wizarding World is faced with a dark future if, like You-Know-Who, is allowed to flourish and gain strength._

 _But who is this evil entity?_

 _Readers will be shocked to find out that this evil being is someone they have come to trust, to rely on; to put their faith in. As a concerned citizen, I, Rita Skeeter, used my talents and skills to do everything in my power to uncover all that this evilness is bringing upon our world. We cannot trust the Ministry to protect us from harm, as they are under the influence of this evil person._

 _Hermione Granger, the brainpower behind the Golden Trio, best friend to Harry Potter and ex-girlfriend to Ronald Weasley, wants to rule the world._

 _Since her first year at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger has been a loner and degrades those who do not worship knowledge as she does. Sources from Hogwarts confided in me that throughout the years, this evil minx only befriended two persons: our heroes Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Ex-Hogwarts students that I interviewed swore that Hermione Granger never made any attempts to befriend anyone else, and I have figured out why._

 _Hermione Granger knew a way to gain power is through those who wield it. Harry Potter who defeated the Dark Lord twice, is the best way for her. Ronald Weasley, who from the start was besotted to Granger, was going to be the vile witch's slave. We have seen in their fourth year at Hogwarts how Granger was manipulating the hearts and minds of the Wizarding World's famous young men: Victor Krum the famous Bulgarian Seeker and Harry Potter himself. Unfortunately, this was just the beginning of her grandiose plan._

 _Insider sources at Hogwarts told me that Granger is famous in the castle for trying to "liberate" the house-elves as well as "advancing the rights" of Muggleborns. This begs the question: is this little know-it-all insulting the Wizarding World and calling all of us as a society to be cruel and thoughtless? Have we not done all we can to ensure house-elves are happy and that Muggleborns can live a better life with us? It seems that Hermione Granger likens us to the Death Eaters with their cruel treatment on both their fellow men and other creatures. Let me ask you this question, dear readers: are your Muggleborn friends unhappy with the way you treat them and for those of you who have house-elves, are they unhappy with the way you treat them?_

 _This passion for house-elves and Muggleborns may seem trivial, but it serves a hidden, bigger agenda: world domination._

 _Hermione Granger looks down upon us wizards and witches. She is trying to gain the trust of house-elves to get them to lend their magic to her. She is trying to get support from Muggleborns to elect her as a future leader. Deep down, she never does care for either group. If she does, why would she try to "free" house-elves from a job these lovely creatures love? And why would she make it seem as if Muggleborns are weak and useless in this world where they are accepted as magical beings?_

 _Unfortunately, our heroes are mind-controlled by this evil witch. However, fortunately, they are slowly realizing their predicaments and are trying to heal themselves. Ronald Weasley wisely broke up with this vile witch and Harry Potter has dedicated himself to be an Auror, in the hopes that he will gain strength one day to defeat Granger as how his hero, Albus Dumbledore, finally found the strength to defeat Gelert Grindelwald. Hopefully Mr. Potter will do so sooner rather than later, unlike his hero._

 _These days, Hermione Granger is nesting with sons and daughters of confirmed Death Eaters. Not only that, she is currently dating Draco Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy's mother, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, is in a dilemma: she wants her son to be happy, but she does not want her son to follow his father's footsteps._

" _I wish my son listened to his instincts," a distraught Narcissa Malfoy admitted to me, "From his first day at Hogwarts, he has never liked her. But suddenly, once the Dark Lord has gone, the vile woman clouds my son's mind! That witch knows my son is now the man who has control over our estate. She is trying to get our money, the money we Malfoys have worked hard for so many generations. She thinks my poor husband, who was used by the Dark Lord, is well-versed in Dark Magic and she can learn from him. She's sorely mistaken – I will not give up on my husband and my son!"_

 _But the most terrifying aspect of Hermione Granger taking the mantle of a Dark Lady is getting the backing from a younger witch well-versed in dark magic, perhaps darker than what You-Know-Who unleashed upon the world._

 _I am confident my readers remember the name of You-Know-Who's most trusted second-in-command: Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black. Arguably insane, she was one of the cruelest people the world has ever known, coming close to You-Know-Who himself. From the Black family, she was not the only one who adored the dark path._

 _Her father, Cygnus Black, had a son, born to a Muggle. This was kept as a secret until a few months ago when the Black estate, represented by Mrs. Malfoy, announced that an heiress has come forward. Is this not a strange coincidence? That as soon as a servant to the dark path, Bellatrix Lestrange, died, another appeared? What secrets do the Black family hold?_

 _This niece of Bellatrix Lestrange is named Tristane Black, born to Altair Black and an unknown Muggle woman. Unfortunately, this investigative journalist is unable to get access to Ms. Black's files, due to Hermione Granger's hold on the Ministry._

 _You see, Hermione Granger is a smart woman. Another of our heroes, Neville Longbottom, son to Frank and Alice Longbottom, testified that Granger is "the smartest witch of our age". She was the plotter behind You-Know-Who's downfall and now she is plotting for her own rise to prominence. She knows her grip on Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are loosening, and therefore she must find another puppet. Poor young Mr. Malfoy is now in her grip, which is really unfortunate, considering the horrors the Malfoys had to go through recently. In addition, Hermione Granger has befriended Tristane Black, who is another servant of the dark in the making._

 _Tristane Black has an interesting feature: she only has an eye. She sports an eye patch with the Black crest on it, and according to my sources, she is clueless about wandwork. But do not be deceived with that, my readers, for this is an evil witch with a talent for deceit. While little is known of her childhood (the Black family loves to keep things secret, don't they?), there are reports confirming Tristane Black killed her own father and was on her way to kill the Malfoys when she was intercepted by none other than her cousin, Draco Malfoy. Unfortunately, Mrs. Malfoy refused to entertain the thought that Ms. Black is set on wiping out her family._

" _I'm still mourning for my sister's death," the Malfoy matriarch said softly. "And I've just found out I have a niece from a brother I never knew existed. There's no way such an angel would hurt my family."_

 _I can assure you, dear readers, that this Tristane Black is evil. Reports from the castle confirmed that young Mr. Malfoy started to get close to Hermione Granger due to Ms. Black's insistence. Insiders also have informed me that Ms. Black holds a sacrificial ceremony at least twice a month, trying to commune with the dead. This is the reason why I cannot release the name of my sources, as I do not want them killed by both Hermione Granger and Tristane Black. Even the Gryffindor House, known for its allegiance to the Light, is wary to Hermione Granger and do not trust her, even though she is a Gryffindor and the Head Girl. Things sound fishy, don't they?_

 _As a concerned citizen, I am calling to my readers, the society, and the Ministry to put an end to whatever plots planned by Hermione Granger and Tristane Black. I do not wish for another You-Know-Who, and I want a peaceful Wizarding Society._

 _Stay tuned with me and look for my next expose on Hermione Granger and her weird friendship with Tristane Black._

"You missed both communing with the dead ceremonies, Hermione," a voice behind Hermione's ear spoke.

Hermione, who had been gripping the newspaper tightly until her knuckles went white, was confused.

"What?"

Luna, who apparently had been reading the piece from behind Hermione, pointed at a paragraph.

"It's nearly the end of October and as far as I know, you have not been to any sacrificial ceremony this month. I think you are slacking off," the blonde said in a sing-song voice.

Hermione had no idea whether Luna was joking or had taken the piece of rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote seriously.

"Hermione slacking off? What about?" Draco took a seat next to Hermione at the Slytherin table, taking a piece of fruit. Without waiting for an invitation, Luna took a seat at the other side of Hermione and took a muffin.

"She is not as determined to conquer the world," Luna informed Draco.

Speechless, Hermione shoved the newspaper to Draco and pointed at the offending article. She watched Draco's face turning dark.

"That bitch!" he swore.

"Which bitch?" Ginny took a seat opposite the swearing blond. It was his turn to shove the paper to the redhead, who quickly scanned the article.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Draco had noticed Hermione growing quieter.

"Those were our pictures in Hogsmeade, Draco," she said in a low whisper. Two pictures were displayed to accompany the article: one when she had tea with Draco and Narcissa and another when Draco was covering her with his coat, on their way back braving the wind to the castle, when he caught up with her.

"Did you notice any beetles around?" the Head Girl asked suddenly.

Understanding suddenly formed on Draco's face. He remembered a journalist, in his fourth year, able to transform into a beetle to get hot information on people.

"No," he shook his head. "But then again, I wasn't paying much attention to nature at that time."

"That bitch is smart, discrediting both you and the Ministry at the same time so that if you tell the Ministry she is an unregistered Animagus, and the public gets wind of the stupid bitch getting caught for that, the public will think you're trying to hide something," Ginny commented.

Hermione exhaled. Skeeter was still holding a grudge, apparently.

"Well, I'm getting used to be gossiped. I'll just ignore this and it will go away eventually," she put on a brave face.

As if on cue, the morning post owls stopped at their table, all were waiting for Hermione. Her eyes widened, knowing that this could not be good news. Draco, Luna, and Ginny helped a shaking Hermione to get the letters from the owls, but forbade the Head Girl to open any of them.

"These feels not right, allow me to check," murmured Draco, casting a scanning spell on them.

Sure enough, none of the letters were considered safe to open. Draco banished all letters without asking for Hermione's permission.

"Come, follow me. I need to check on Tristane."

He helped Hermione rose to her feet, and they, along with Ginny and Luna (nobody questioned why the blonde suddenly followed them. It's Luna, after all.) went to the Slytherin dormitory. On their way there, scores of students whispered and stared at them openly, with their copies of _Daily Prophet_ , _Witch's Weekly_ , or _Magic's Herald_ spread out. Dread filled Hermione and it reminded her of years ago when the very same Rita Skeeter wrote nasty rumours about the Head Girl, resulting in nearly all of the wizarding world hating Hermione. She went blank. Thankfully, Draco kept a firm grip on Hermione's arm and dragged her to the Slytherin dungeons.

Draco whispered the password, still not feeling comfortable to allow non-Slytherins have knowledge of it, and they entered the Slytherin Common Room. The room was deserted, as it was breakfast time – most of the younger students were in the Hall. The room did not feel threatening or unfriendly at all, unlike what Hermione had envisioned in mind. It was strange for the Gryffindor to feel somewhat welcomed in a Slytherin area.

Draco brought them to the door of the Tristane's dorm and knocked on the door. A moment later, an irritated and sleepy-looking Pansy opened it.

"Do you guys have a death wish or something?"

"Where's Tristane?" Draco's voice sounded urgent enough that the sleepy girl became alert.

"Not here, she left some time ago in a hurry. Why? What's going on?"

Draco swore.

"The Skeeter bitch wrote some stupid article about Tristane, Hermione, and I. I need to make sure Tristane is alright."

"Let's not get into a panic and start searching for her," Ginny said calmly.

But before they could organize themselves, the witch in question appeared. Tristane looked distraught and on the verge of crying. She stared at them with an eye wide opened, full of a mixture of emotions: fear, worry, shock, pain. Draco rushed to her and guided her gently to one of the couches in the Common Room. The rest followed and gathered around Tristane.

"What happened?" Draco looked tensed, muscles taut, as if ready for a kill.

"If it's that Skeeter bitch, don't fret about it. That's her style, to write rubbish and make life miserable for people," Ginny added, guessing the reason for Tristane's behaviour.

The one-eyed witch shook her head.

"No, it's not about that stupid article," Tristane said hoarsely. She looked at Draco in the eye and asked, "Why did you and Aunt Cissa accepted me?"

Draco looked confused. As way of explanation, Tristane took three different parchments and offered them to her confused cousin, who took them carefully. The rest of the group huddled closer around Draco to read. There were gasps of disbelief with what they read and Hermione snatched one of the offending parchments to take a better look.

She examined it closely, pointing her wand and murmuring spells at it. Tristane looked at the Head Girl with both apprehensive and interested looks on her face.

"This seems authentic," Hermione hesitated, afraid to look at Tristane in the eye. "But things are too fishy, so I won't jump to conclusions immediately."

Tristane's heart sank. Despair slowly set in her heart.

"There's no way our grandfather would do this," Draco spoke, his voice firm.

"I wonder who wrote this letter," Ginny added, holding the third parchment.

Two of the parchments, held by both Hermione and Draco, were copies of an intelligence report from the Department of Mysteries on Cygnus and Altair Black. According to the report, both Cygnus and Altair each kidnapped a Muggle woman, impregnated her, and once the babies were born (Altair as Cygnus' son and Tristane as Altair's daughter) the Muggles were murdered by way of strangling. The third parchment was a letter addressed to Tristane, using letters from newspapers, stating that "insanity runs in your family. Who are you going to kidnap and murder?"

"Dad never talked about my mum," Tristane said very softly, burying her head in her hands. "He would get upset every time the topic of my mum came up, so I never prod."

Ginny hugged the now crying girl.

"I don't think your father is that cruel, Tristane," comforted the redhead. "I'm sure he was just upset because he really loved your mother."

"I know the Blacks had always been associated with the Dark side, but I know they would not have done this," Draco said strongly. "You're a pureblood, Tristane, just like I am. There's no way grandfather would want to even touch a non-pureblood. Haven't you seen ancient bloodlines? Heck, even houses traditionally aligned to the Light are still purebloods. Look at the Longbottoms, the Bones, and the Weasleys – no offence, Weaslette."

"None taken, Ferret," Ginny replied coolly. "Besides, it's true. I mean, we don't necessarily insist on only finding other purebloods, but I suppose things just happen that way." The redhead looked thoughtful and added, "Although, come to think of it, that's pretty strange."

"I'm certain this must've been Skeeter's work," Hermione said, anger now in her eyes. "I don't know what her intentions are, but I will find out and I swear I will tear off that woman's rear end!"

With that battle cry, the Head Girl intended to storm the library and gain inspiration. However, before she could do that, a barn owl swooped on them and extended one of its legs, toward Hermione, who recognised the owl as a Hogwarts owl. Frowning, she took off the letter while Draco gave the bird a treat.

"It's… addressed for us," Hermione was surprised. How did the Headmistress know that they were gathered together?

"Us as in, all of us here?" Pansy asked for confirmation.

Hermione nodded and opened the letter.

"We're summoned to the Headmistress' office right now," she read it out loud.

The group exchanged glances, puzzled.

"What are you people waiting for? Let's go, at least with McGonagall we know she will be fair to us," Ginny said.

"Hold on a sec! Let met brush up first! I still have my morning breath, you know!" Pansy jumped to her dorm in a rush, eliciting laughter from the group.

The group made their way to the Headmistress' office, on alert and wary of any attacks that might come their way. Fortunately, classes were in session and the only being they came across with was the Bloody Baron, who ignored them completely and went on his merry way. They stopped in front of the gargoyles guarding their destination. Hermione muttered the password and the way opened for them.

McGonagall, Fleur, and Andromeda were in deep discussion with some of the portraits. Upon the group's entrance, the discussion stopped.

"Come on in and take a seat," McGonagall beckoned them to enter and gestured at some of the chairs arranged neatly opposite of the three professors. They did as instructed, with Dumbledore smiling at them from his portrait. That eased Hermione a little.

"Have a biscuit."

Not daring to disobey, the group took a biscuit each from the bowl McGonagall held out. Hermione took a small bite. Raisins. She sighed.

"How are you all feeling?" the Headmistress asked, not unkindly.

"Fine, I guess," Draco spoke for the group, who half nodded and half shrugged, affirming his words.

"Did you read the papers, Professor?" Hermione asked.

"We did, and soon after, numerous letters were owled by both parents of our students and members of the public," Andromeda answered.

"We were just discussing with Professors Dumbledore, Snape, and Nigellus here on the best way to handle this issue," McGonagall began. "But before we can do anything, we need to ask some questions."

Hermione was resigned. Nobody believed her, after all. It was Fourth Year all over again. Damn you, Skeeter!

"Is there any truth to the article, no matter how small?" Andromeda asked.

"We're not dating, Professor!" Draco blurted out.

Hermione could not stop herself rolling her eyes. Of all things he was worried about. The three professors chuckled.

"No, Professor," Hermione answered. "Except for small details such as me having tea with Draco and Narcissa, there's no truth to the article."

"I see," it was McGonagall. She linked her fingers together and sat back, looking thoughtful.

"Is there any particular reason why the three of you are specifically named and targeted by this journalist?" Fleur asked.

"I don't even know who she is," Tristane answered honestly.

Draco and Hermione exchanged glances.

"I know her, but I haven't talked to her since Fourth Year," Draco admitted reluctantly. "And we parted on good terms, so I have no idea why was she mentioning me."

Hermione snorted. "She's an attention-seeker, Draco. She'd write about anything, and even make up stories if she has to. We have a feud of sorts, she and I. I know her secret and threatened her with it if she won't stop writing lies about Harry a few years back."

Everybody looked interested.

"Dad said Rita Skeeter is part of the conspiracy to subjugate the elderly, trying to harvest their spinal fluid to strengthen anti-ageing potion," Luna said seriously.

The rest just stared at her.

"That… could be a reason in the whole grand scheme of things, but what is this secret you're talking about, Hermione?" Fleur asked, tactfully not touching the bomb dropped by Luna.

"She's an unregistered Animagus," the Head Girl answered.

"That is a serious offence and could be highly jeopardising her future and career," McGonagall said. "Unfortunately, she had just painted the Ministry as untrustworthy. Even if we report it, the public will be backing her and cast us in a negative light."

Hermione did not want to raise her hopes up with the Headmistress' usage of "us".

"That aside, I want the both of you, Draco and Tristane, to know that my father, Cygnus Black, would never do what he's alleged to have done," Andromeda spoke quietly, her eyes looked straight at her niece and nephew. "Cygnus might not be the best father I've had, but he would never raise his wand for murder. He's too much of a coward."

The portrait of Phineas Nigellus protested, which was immediately shushed by the rest of the portraits.

"I will add layers of protection to the castle to make it unable for people to transform into an Animagus," McGonagall decided. "Animagus must get my special permission to be able to transform. Unfortunately, I can't impose the same on Hogsmeade. But at least I can ensure she will not be able to run freely in the school." The Headmistress' face turned stern. "I must add, why are my Head Girl, Head Boy, Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, and school Prefects (Luna and Pansy) not in their respective classes?"

The group were silent, ashamed of being caught. Luna, however, looked serene and innocent. She started to hum 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen'. McGonagall wisely chose to not address the eccentric girl.

"All of you aside from Miss Black have faced adversaries far worse and stronger than Miss Skeeter," McGonagall continued. "Tell me, Miss Granger, why did you fight Voldemort?"

Hermione closed her eyes. "To protect all that I cherish and love, Professor."

"And you, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall turned to Draco, "why, at the end of the day, did you fight him?"

Draco looked at his clasped hands. He was uncomfortable. "He was hurting my family."

"Is Miss Skeeter not hurting your family now? And is she not attacking all that you cherish and love as well?"

Both Draco and Hermione flinched; this reprimand somehow cut their hearts deeply.

"I am expecting you to attend your respective classes starting from the next period. I will write a note to each of your professors, excusing whatever classes you are currently skipping. I expect better from all of you."

Feeling the dismissal, the group left.

"Luna, please stop your incessant humming," Pansy pleaded.

Luna looked surprised. "Why? I was merely increasing our group morale."

Ginny snorted a laughter. "You're crazy, Luna," she said fondly. "I do wonder why I was even called in."

"Me too," added Pansy.

They looked at Luna, who chuckled.

"We have the brightest witch of her age, three Slytherins, one Ravenclaw, and one particularly stubborn Gryffindor," the eccentric witch commented. "I'm pretty sure McGonagall was asking us to fight back."

Tristane suddenly lighted up.

"Hey, Drake," she said excitedly. "How do Slytherins usually fight?"

"Uh, preferably not head-on and in a sneaky way. Why?"

"Would you consider the article as a sneaky way?"

"What do you have in mind?" Pansy asked, curious.

"Would Slytherins consider fighting through words a sneaky and not head-on attack?" Tristane pressed.

Both Pansy and Draco nodded.

"I have a plan," the one-eyed witch announced. "Meet me in the Head's Quarters this evening after class. I'll tell you guys later."

"Well, we do need to get to our next class anyway," Ginny interjected. "But I can't wait to know what your plan is."

"Yeah, make sure it's worthy of the Slytherin House," Pansy added.

Tristane was excited. She and the group were up till very late the previous evening, planning and strategizing their counter-attack. There were a lot of owls involved, and they even used the fireplace in the Head's Quarters to make floo calls. The group slept there as well, not willing to leave Draco and Hermione unprotected. Even Daphne, Blaise and Theo joined in.

The previous day was not a good day for Tristane, Draco and Hermione. Draco was used to be viewed and treated with contempt by the student body. Tristane and Hermione, however, were not. Ginny had to threaten some onlookers before they stopped throwing insults at both Tristane and Hermione. During lunch, Neville had announced publicly that 'if people were stupid enough to believe Skeeter, they have no right to ask for Hermione's help in future' and promptly sat at the Slytherin table, next to Hermione, staring at the student body defiantly.

Some students, especially those from the DA group, went to talk to Hermione and showed their confidence in her. But for Tristane, who was a Black and a Slytherin, none of the student body supported her. Nobody spoke up for Draco either, which the boy could not blame. After all, he had been a prat to everyone since his first day.

Hermione had sent the three parchments to Harry, asking his help to investigate. She felt he would have access to better resources to deal with such matters. For a moment, she entertained the thought of joining the Aurors. But she shook her head. While she enjoyed exerting her mind, she did not enjoy exerting her body.

The morning after the article was published, both Draco and Ginny decided to cancel Quidditch training, not wanting to create chances for fights. The first match was still in a couple of weeks anyway. Tristane harassed everyone to get ready quickly to go to the Great Hall for breakfast. The one-eyed girl was impatient; excited to see her plans come to fruition (hopefully).

Due to Pansy's insistence have a long bath and an equally long make up session, by the time they descended to the Great Hall, the place was already filled with the rest of the student body. As they entered, the area fell into a hush, but instead of giving an unfriendly vibe, the student body looked at them with… admiration?

The group acted as if they did not notice the change and walked in their usual pace to the Slytherin table. Neville was already there, chatting with a third year Slytherin. He waved enthusiastically at them and once they took their seats, the Gryffindor shove a newspaper at them.

"Look! I can't believe what I've just read!" Neville exclaimed.

The group huddled to read the front line. Tristane grinned triumphantly.

 _RETRACTION AND APOLOGY_

 _The_ Daily Prophet _would like to retract our article published under the title_ RISE OF A DARK LADY? _and offer our sincerest apologies to Mr. Draco Malfoy, Miss Hermione Granger, Miss Tristane Blac, and others who may be directly or indirectly affected negatively by the article. It has come to our understanding that the article stated above was never verified independently and there is not a shred of truth in any of the claims and allegations presented by the article._

 _As of today, Miss Rita Skeeter is not affiliated with the_ Daily Prophet _any longer. We strive to keep our standards to the highest possible and we are regretful to cut off ties with Miss Skeeter, who has been our partner for many years._

"It worked!" Draco could not believe his eyes.

"What did you guys do?" Neville whispered.

"One word. Lawyer," Tristane grinned.

Tristane, with the aid from Draco, had owled the Black family's head solicitor and ordered for him to "deal with this mess". The head solicitor, Mr. Thomas Burns, went to work immediately and coordinated with them, Harry, and Narcissa. Burns threatened to sue newspapers and magazines that published the offending article, as well as one Miss Rita Skeeter. He had also arranged for Harry and Narcissa to give a press conference together and worked with all of them to write a joint statement which both Harry and Narcissa would be reading, on behalf of everybody involved. The press conference was due this afternoon, and the group could not wait to read the evening papers.

Skeeter had disappeared, understandably, and the offending newspapers as well as magazines retracted the said article and offered their apologies. With the choice of either that or facing the Blacks' and Malfoys' army of solicitors (with endless galleons as their backing), no sane newspapers and magazines would elect for the second choice.

Tristane scanned the rest of the newspaper and, once satisfied, closed it with a triumphant grin. She looked around the hall and caught Professor McGonagall's eyes. Tristane swore the professor gave her a wink before returning to her impassive expression. The Slytherin was happy. Part one of her plan had worked. She could not wait to see the evening edition of the papers.

"Pass me the butter, Draco."

* * *

Books flew. Glass smashed against the wall. Tables and chairs were thrown out of the windows. On the floor, ripped pieces of _The Daily Prophet_ were scattered. Uncontrollable rage drove her actions, pure hatred consumed her. She screamed, letting out the pent-up frustrations.

"Destroying my place is one thing. But destroying your body?"

She turned and narrowed her eyes. This was not her enemy, this was an ally. The broken champagne bottle in her hand did not fly to the intruder; its contents had been downed hours ago. He took a sure step toward her, assessing the damage she caused. He noticed the deep cut on her hand that was holding the bottle and sighed. He took that hand and gently kissed it, licking the mixture of blood and champagne.

"Oh Rita, what am I going to do with you?" he murmured, caressing her cheek.

She fell into his arms, sobbing and shaking with rage.

"I will destroy that little shit, Jerome, I swear I will."

He gently pried the broken bottle from her hand and carelessly threw it away. He hugged her and made soothing noises.

"This is just the beginning of the battle, sweetheart. Don't fret about it. I'd like to see the extent of their abilities. I was afraid they'd disappoint me and crumble instantly."

Rita raised her head and looked into his cold, calculating eyes.

"You have a plan."

Her tone was not questioning – it was an observation. He nodded.

"A tactician always has backup plans to the backup plans of the backup plans." He released her and took a step away, kneeling on one knee. He picked several of the ripped pieces and examined them. "You were successful, my dear. I was merely luring all of their players out to the open. Now we just need to find an opening and strike." He looked thoughtful as he read the words on them.

… _Mr. Potter, the Boy Who Lived, vanquisher of Voldemort, one of the Golden Trio, and now Auror Trainee, emphasized that he and Miss Hermione Granger had never dated. "What Skeeter wrote about us were lies aimed to improve her ratings. Hermione is just like my sister – there's no way we would ever date." This is good news for Mr. Potter's fans worldwide, as the currently single hero will never need to fear competition from one of his oldest friends!_

… _...in a joint statement. This is a historical event, as it was widely known that the Malfoys and the Potters never see eye-to-eye. However, the pointless…_

… _be. Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy, speaking on behalf of her niece, Tristane Black, condemns Miss Skeeter's actions. "As dictated by tradition, the Black household has requested for the media to not publish my niece's name and details until the day she is of age. We have hoped the media would respect our wishes, as is expected of a profession that understands our traditions and values. We felt let down by an institution we trusted." Both Mr. Potter and Mrs. Malfoy also stated that the media targeted school children and had shamelessly publicized lies that excited the wizarding community, without regards to these children's future._

 _On a related event, the Department of Public Relations and Information has raised the issues of child protection in the media. The minister in charge, Mr. Jonathan Bohern, made a statement promising to strengthen laws in relations to child protection in the media, claiming that a revamp in the industry is long overdue. While majority has reacted positively, some factions, especially the…._

Jerome crumpled the pieces and set them ablaze, watching them slowly turned to ashes.

"Are you still interested to see this to the end, Rita?"

Rita nodded firmly. There was no way in hell she would let these brats go just like that.

Jerome stood and offered a hand to Rita, which she took. They Disapparated.


	15. Chapter 15

**_Hi Skellyshook, thanks for leaving a review. I'm glad that you find it getting better, because that means I am starting to get the hang of things. It's my first time writing a fanfic and a story. I'm far more used to academic writing. I hope you'll find this chapter and subsequent ones to be interesting as well._**

 ** _Happy Friday again, everyone, and I hope all of you are still enjoying this story. Thank you so much for reading. :)_**

 ** _Forgive me if there are any grammatical mistakes - English is not my first language and I try my best to not butcher it._**

 ** _JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter world._**

* * *

 **CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

Unlike the usual weather Britain had been having, the sun was shining brightly as if to remind people that it still existed. However, the ever-present wind was blowing strongly. Both Draco and Ginny were in deep discussion with their respective team mates at each team's house table. The Great Hall was abuzz with energy and excitement, and for the first time in over a year, Hogwarts was holding Quidditch again. Not all were happy with it, unfortunately. Some were affected negatively, such as the esteemed Head Girl.

Hermione was neither at the Slytherin nor did Gryffindor tables – both teams view her with deep suspicions. Slytherin, understandably, did not want non-Slytherins at their table, for fear of eavesdroppers on their Quidditch team. The Gryffindors did not trust Hermione as well. To them, she was the girlfriend of the enemy's Quidditch team captain. The well-known fact of her strong indifference bordering on dislike regarding the sport did not help either. The Gryffindors felt their Head Girl would not hesitate to blurt out highly-sensitive information on the team's tactics. Poor Hermione sat with the Ravenclaws, whose team were not in the day's match.

Tristane had no clue whatever the team was discussing about, but she felt excited all the same. Being a Black made everyone automatically assumed she was loyal to death to Slytherin, so none of the team members cared to lower their voices. She, however, did get the occasional glances from her surrounding, their eyes on the scarf wrapped around her neck.

"Daphne, why the hell are you late?" Draco frowned at his Chaser.

Daphne rolled her eyes and squeezed herself between the captain and his cousin, and grabbed a piece of fruit.

"Red doesn't suit you, Tristane," the Chaser ignored Draco.

Tristane was wearing the Gryffindor scarf, courtesy of Ginny. When the Slytherin arrived for breakfast, she made a quick stop at the Gryffindor table to wish Ginny luck. The redhead had pouted, demanding Tristane's support for her as well.

"I'll scream my support for both you and Draco equally," the Slytherin promised.

Ginny had winked at her innocently while saying, "I bet I'll be the one you'll scream for the hardest."

While Tristane tried her hardest at not blushing, Ginny quickly wrapped her scarf around the Slytherin's neck. Tristane could feel nearly half of the Great Hall staring daggers at her. She wished Ginny would just get a date soon. She did not want to have the same fate like Draco – nobody, aside from Ginny and Tristane, believed that he was not in a relationship with Hermione.

"That's not what I heard, Daphne," Tristane replied, munching her muffin. She tried her hardest not to start blushing again.

"Yeah but not on match day, darling." Daphne was giving her a weird look.

"Sometimes I wonder if you're really sorted into Slytherin, instead of Hufflepuff," Blaise commented, which earned him an elbow jab from Draco.

"She is a Black. Therefore she is a Slytherin."

"Alright man, alright, there's no need to get so upset," Blaise mumbled.

"Blaise is right though, why is a Slytherin supporting the Gryffindor when nobody outside the Slytherin House supports us?" the Slytherin Beater dubbed as 'Salamander' grumbled.

The rest murmured their agreement. Draco groaned.

"If I can get a non-Slytherin to support us, will you lot shut up and return to our important discussion?"

As one, the team nodded. Draco sighed and looked around, thinking quickly. He strode to the Ravenclaw table, pulled his scarf free, and wrapped it around an unsuspecting Hermione.

"I know Ginny is your best friend, but please don't forsake me in my time of needs, my love," Draco said sweetly, loud enough for the Slytherin team to hear.

Tristane giggled.

Without waiting for a reply, the blond returned to the Slytherin table, leaving a speechless Hermione. He gestured for his team to follow him. Tristane was going to rise but was her arm was grabbed by Pansy.

"Let's go get the best seats."

Tristane nodded and followed Pansy to the stadium. A few students were already there, but none sporting green and silver.

"… skies are clear, sun's shining brightly, brighter than my future, of course. For our future is dark and heavy, with only a candle to light our path…"

Tristane and Pansy burst out laughing. The commentator, a Fifth Year Ashley Cole, was in her 'emotional' phase of teenage-hood. She was famous for her doomsday outlook on life. Fortunately for her, the Hufflepuffs were easygoing and they never shunned her.

"Trelawney's got to be careful, lest Cole take her job later on," Pansy sniggered.

Cole continued her droning about the sadness of their futures while the crowd trickled in. McGonagall could be heard lecturing Cole about how bright their futures actually were. Blaise wedged himself between Tristane and Pansy.

"You girls need to eat more. Too skinny. At this rate your bodies can't keep me warm," he grumbled and got a smack to the back of his head from each witch.

"I'm the Ice Queen, why should I give off warmth?" Pansy moved and sat next to Tristane, making the one-eyed witch sat between Pansy and Blaise.

"At least Tristane here will never abandon me. She's a good kid, unlike you."

The two friends traded insults and Tristane tuned them out. She was far more interested in observing the crowd.

"They're here," Tristane pinched her friends' knees in excitement, causing them to switch from friendly bickering to protesting.

"As usual, this season's Quidditch is opened by Slytherin versus Gryffindor," Cole droned. "A pity it's never a match to the death, which will make the event livelier. But it seems The Powers That Be, as usual, does not permit a tragic soul such as mine to speak out the truth against our oppressor. Ouch, Professor, my ribs hurt!"

Many chuckled and even laughed. Tristane could imagine the stern Headmistress elbowed Cole's ribs.

"I honestly don't really remember who's who, but Draco Malfoy is captaining the Slytherins while Ginevra Weasley is Gryffindor captain," Cole continued. "They've hated each others' guts since day one, I believe, but for some strange reasons this year they're starting to hang out with each other. I guess love conquers all. Hermione Granger, you're not only a hero of the war – you're also a hero of this tragic soul of mine. I admire your strength and courage, and look! Your boyfriend and best friend managed not to kill each other!"

McGonagall must have elbowed Cole again, for the commentator grunted in pain. Hermione, sitting with Luna not far from Tristane's row, blushed furiously and tried to hide away.

"Yeah, yeah, ball's in play. That brooding Slytherin Chaser scored, to the disappointment of most in this stadium. Ten nil to Slytherin!"

Tristane yelled herself hoarse. She still did not understand Quidditch, but if Slytherin scored, she was happy.

"Oh look, the Snitch has been spotted! Weasley is zooming quickly downwards while Malfoy is just a second behind. She's got a good eye, that Weasley chick. I know she's currently single but I bet she's just waiting to make a move on some lucky dude. After Potter, I wonder who can measure up? Oh wait she was feinting, I think. Darn it, I thought this match will be over in under ten minutes! Forgive me, my bed, on this gloomy day I have to be apart a while longer."

Tristane's heart nearly stopped – Ginny, who was playing Seeker for the match (her Seeker managed to get himself sick just right before the match) pulled up at the last second and shot to the sky. Draco nearly collided with the ground but managed to pull away as well. Neither had the Snitch and Ginny did not succeed in getting the Slytherin Seeker out of commission.

Tristane's heart started to beat again, and she yelled support for both Draco and Ginny.

"Malfoy's face is still intact, so he's still handsome for you, Hermione. Ouch Professor, what do you have against my ribs? Oh the score? Yeah, yeah. Of course. It's thirty-nil to Slytherin."

Tristane laughed. Cole was her new favourite witch in the whole wide world.

"We might win the Quidditch Cup this year, after so many years in Gryffindor's hands," said a delighted Blaise. "We have better players than them this season. I love it!"

He started to launch into a long explanation to Tristane about his thoughts on Slytherin Quidditch Team, distracting her from the game.

"…One sixty – thirty to Slytherin. I can hear the crowd booing. As I've said before, our futures are dark."

Tristane finally shushed Blaise and resumed her cheering, yelling Draco's and Ginny's names.

The two opposing Seekers weaved their way among the players, goal hoops and murderous Bludgers, but no Snitch spotted anywhere. Ginny was frustrated, knowing the longer it took her to catch the Snitch, the higher Slytherin's score would be. She cursed her invalid Seeker. If the damn Seeker could play, the redhead would be scoring goals after goals for Gryffindor. She scoured the area, desperately hoping to see a glimpse of the golden Snitch.

She spotted it, buzzing lazily at the middle goal hoop behind the gorilla-looking Slytherin Keeper. She casually turned her head around and nearly whooped for joy seeing Draco dodging a Bludger near the Gryffindor goal area. She commanded the Firebolt to switch to full speed and directed it at the Snitch.

Draco noticed Ginny's sudden movement and his heart nearly stopped when he realised where she was going. He yelled at his Keeper to stay and protect the middle goal hoop where the Snitch was, to his Keeper's confusion. Gryffindors, of course, took advantage of this lack of defence and tried to score the two remaining defenceless goal hoops. Draco willed his broom to pick up pace, racing toward Ginny, hoping he could beat all odds and reach the Snitch in time.

The Slytherin team realised what was happening a moment later and scrambled to protect their middle goal post, trying to barricade it until their Seeker arrived. Ginny saw an army of green and silver gathered around the middle post, blocking her way. She zig-zagged around them, managing to find some space to get through, nearly colliding with three of the players. She was nearing her destination when she saw a Bludger speeding toward her. She swore, knowing her current momentum was not in favour of her. In desperation, she jumped from her broom and pushed her Firebolt downwards, which enabled her to lunged upward.

She was just in time – she could feel the Bludger barely passing by when she took the jump. The redhead somehow managed to somersault in the air, over the gorilla-looking Slytherin, and caught the Snitch in her hand right before Draco could reach it, leaving the blond's hand clutching empty air.

Before she could celebrate, she was plummeting to the ground, vaguely aware of the screams of panic around her. Green and red robes tried to catch her but to no avail. Then she felt her Firebolt, miraculously in the air slightly below her. The redhead grabbed and mount it, and managed to pull herself away from slamming the ground. As one, the crowd breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, Ginny could not stop herself from crashing into the stands.

The redhead fought for consciousness, wanting to show her team the Snitch in her hands. She could not understand why she could not get up, why she had to struggle to keep her eyes opened. Ginny tried to focus to listen to the noises around her, but she could not really hear. A bunch of faces were looking down at her, screaming something unintelligible. A blond – it was Draco – was arguing with the Gryffindor Keeper about something. Ginny tried to tell them that she caught the Snitch, that Draco should just shut up. But she could not.

Then she heard a voice yelling her name. She recognised that voice.

Moments later, the owner of the voice was kneeling beside Ginny. The redhead stared into that familiar eye.

"See? I made you screamed hardest," Ginny grinned.

She then succumbed into the darkness.

* * *

When he first joined the Auror training, Harry Potter thought his adventures for the past seven years would prepare him for one of Wizarding Britain's toughest jobs. Apparently not. The Boy Who Lived regretted his heavy reliance on Hermione's knowledge and skills. He had his work cut out for him in training. While he was better than most newbies in terms of battle-readiness, he performed surprisingly poorly in terms of knowledge. The amount of readings he had to catch up made him thankful for all the years Hermione helped him out. He now understood the importance of having theoretical knowledge – it helped him to not rush into situations. He was nearly killed several times during training due to his inflated confidence in thinking that he had the experience and could wing it.

Harry wished Ron did not quit the programme. The youngest Weasley boy could not stand reading. Unfortunately, his battle skills were just adequate, unable to make up for his lack of theoretical knowledge. Harry sighed, missing his best friends.

The tip of a wand gently ribbed his ribs.

"Focus, Potter," his team leader murmured.

Harry cleared his mind and concentrated on the farmhouse he was tasked on watching. Kingsley had quietly set up a special joint task force between the Aurors and Unspeakables to handle a hush-hush project codenamed: Green Pirates. The name was suggested by a very drunk Harry, when he was dragged in unprepared to the special task force's very first emergency meeting. He was in a bar, on his off evening, when Kingsley himself dragged him without explaining a word.

The task force, nicknamed "Navy" due to its handling of 'pirates', consisted of seven people, with Harry as the only trainee. The rest already had at least five years of experience under their respective belts. Lewis Richardson, an Unspeakseable, was selected as the team leader. He was keeping watch at the farmhouse with Harry tonight. Two others were doing research duties (books, book, books) while the rest were scheduled to sleep.

Upon his return from the last time he meet Hermione, he tried his best to look for information on the Blacks. The department's librarian, noting his interest, informed Kingsley, who then invited Harry for lunch for a discussion. The Minister of Magic admitted to Harry that a plan was underway to investigate the matter, and that several Hogwarts professors (Harry could guess who) were in contact with the Minister in regards to Tristane Black. Kingsley did not mention why the Ministry was highly interested with this teenage witch, and it did not occur to Harry to ask. Too many things were occupying his mind.

"Potter, did you hear that?" Richardson asked quietly.

Harry strained his ears and could make out sounds of people fighting. He nodded and tensed, wand in hand ready for action.

"Call the others and follow me."

Harry sent his Patronus and quietly followed Richardson toward the farmhouse. There were not many trees nearby to mask their presence. But they were near enough to hear sounds of struggles from the farmhouse. When the rest of the team appeared, they surrounded and stormed the farmhouse, only to be greeted by Death. Richardson swore and they checked the bodies.

There were ten bodies sprawled around the kitchen. Five young children, a couple who looked like their parents and three men robed in black. The three matched Draco's descriptions of Tristane's assailants when she first appeared at the edge of Malfoy Manor. For days, the Navy had been trailing the three men, who holed up at this farmhouse, whose dead occupants were thought to be held hostage, judging from their terrible conditions.

"Typical. They murdered the family and committed suicide. Cyanide." Richardson's voice was emotionless.

"Er… How do you know that?" Harry could not help asking.

"One: the family are all tied up. Two: I can't detect anyone disappearing from here. Three: all of them are dead. Four: there's cyanide in these three idiots' mouths," Auror Lilian answered.

"You'll get the hang of it soon, Potter," she squeezed his shoulder gently, an encouragement.

"There's nothing on them at all, boss," one Unspeakable called.

Richardson swore.

"Lilian, Frank, and Hunter – find out what you can from here. Potter, you're coming with me. The rest of you, continue the research," Richardson barked orders.

Richardson took the kettle lying on the ground and waved his wand. Harry wanted to laugh. It seemed that Dumbledore was not the only person who could not be bothered to get an authorised Portkey. Richardson offered the kettle to Harry and the latter placed a hand on it. Moments later, they both appeared at an empty and dark alley. Richardson waved his wand again over Harry and himself, and now the both of them were wearing standard Muggle clothing of tees, jeans, and sneakers.

"Uh, sir, where are we?"

Richardson took a step, toward the exit, and Harry followed.

"I'd like you to make a guess."

Outside of the alley, the sun was shining brightly. The air was hot and humid. Harry could feel his body started to perspire. He looked around and saw a busy area, with a lot of vehicles, millions of pedestrians, wide roads, and tall buildings.

"We're in Asia."

Richardson rolled his eyes.

"Anyone with half a brain can see that, Potter. Come on, give me something specific."

Harry turned the gears in his brains, trying to summon the truckload of information he had been devouring since his first day of training. What was it that his instructors tried to drill him with? Something about… time! He looked around, trying to find a clock. They were now stopping at the side road, waiting to cross. Harry glanced at the lady's wrist standing next to him, and looked at her watch. He then tried to calculate the time difference and narrowed the list of countries.

"What's taking you so long?"

"I'm nearly there, sir. Just a moment."

Harry looked around again, desperate to find clues that would further down narrow the list of possibilities. He tried to listen to what the people around him were saying, but he did not recognise the language. He swore internally, knowing his instructors would have his hide if they knew. They were always stressing the importance of learning various languages – not to be fluent in them, but just enough to know where he was and able to communicate with locals.

They stopped in front of a bookstore and Richardson pointed at the newspaper stand.

"That would be very helpful, I believe."

Harry took a closer step to the newspaper stand, gesturing his non-interest of purchasing to the merchant.

"Sir, we are in Jakarta."

"And where is Jakarta?"

Harry hung his head in defeat. Richardson shook his head.

"Potter, when we return, I expect you to improve your geographical knowledge as well as your linguistic skills. What if you're kidnapped and you can't communicate with the locals to find your way out? Yes we wizards have spells designed for that, but what if your wand is taken from you, or worse, your wand broke?"

Harry nodded, sighing internally. Being an Auror was demanding.

They continued walking for a while, until they reached tall office building. Richardson spoke to the guards and they were let in. Harry wondered how many languages the man could speak. At the reception, Richardson talked again. Moments later, they were ushered into the lift and taken to the highest floor, to an office.

A man in suits greeted them enthusiastically, hugging Richardson.

"Potter, this is Jurgen, my childhood friend."

Harry shook hands with the grey-haired man.

"I'm sure you're here bringing headaches to me as always, Lewis, but you do know how to appease me. Glad to finally be able to meet you, Mr. Potter. I'm a fan."

"Uh… Nice to meet you to, sir," Harry had no idea what to say.

Jurgen gestured for them to sit at the sofa.

"I'm sorry I can't entertain the both of you for much longer, I have a board meeting soon," their host apologised. "What can I do for you?"

"Your family, are they still up to date with the current pureblood society?"

Jurgen nodded and frowned.

"I know you hate anything magical, and I'm sorry to barge in like this, but I really need your help, Jurgen," Richardson said softly. "I need to know everything about the Blacks."

Jurgen scrunched his face, thinking hard.

"The Blacks… ah yes, I remember them. That asshole Bellatrix was never nice to me, kept on making fun of my accent." He looked at the expectant Richardson and Harry, and sighed. "I'll pay my cousins a visit tonight and will let you know what I find out, alright? But do you have anything specific in mind?"

Richardson grinned.

"Anything related to Cygnus Black and the current heiress of that family, Tristane Black."

"Huh… Whose child is that?"

Richardson rose. Harry followed suit.

"That's what I'd love to know for sure, mate."

Richardson took out the kettle again and, after Harry placed his hand on it, they returned to England, to their base of operation.

"An Auror needs contacts and a vast network, Potter," Richardson said quietly before they entered their office. "You've been cooped up for so long in that darn castle and were never taught to make useful contacts. Jurgen, despite his dislike with anything magical – he's a Squib – comes from a powerful German pureblood family, with a vast network that can make your Auror assignments much easier. Start with him and grow your own network – that will save your life in future, Potter."

Richardson then stepped into the base.

"You're coming with me tomorrow, Potter," the Unspeakable called. "Get some rest."

* * *

Hermione wanted to murder someone, but had not found the perfect candidate.

The Head Girl had just witnessed her best friend doing a stupid thing for the sake of a stupid, meaningless game. Then, while at it, the said best friend managed to land herself in the hospital wing, with three broken ribs and some bruises. How Ginny managed to not kill herself was beyond Hermione's comprehension.

At the hospital wing, while waiting for Madam Pomfrey to finish working her miracles on the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, Tristane complained about itchiness and started to scratch her arms hard, to the point blood trickled. Madam Pomfrey was alarmed by that – never a good sign – and, after patching up Tristane, ordered her to take the bed next to Ginny's to spend the night at the hospital wing.

The Mediwitch later on told Hermione and Draco that someone had deliberately infected Tristane with Old Hag Powder. It was a powder that caused itchiness at an insane level that made the infected scratch their bodies hard enough to draw blood, and would end up with ugly, scarred bodies. It was by luck that Madam Pomfrey herself was once a victim of Old Hag Powder, years ago during her Hogwarts years, and she recognised the effects instantly.

Draco went berserk and wanted blood but Hermione managed to calm him down before he did something stupid. She dragged him to the library, leaving Blaise, Pansy, and Daphne to look after the two hospitalised witches.

"How will this library help us catch the culprit, Hermione?"

Hermione shot him a dark look, warning him to lower his voice. They would be thrown out of the library if he kept going on.

"I need to figure out the properties of the Old Hag Powder, and whether a Hogwarts student can make it easily," she explained while looking for some books. "Twice Tristane was attacked in the castle, and I bet the same student did it.' She grabbed a couple of books and shoved one to the blond. "Look for the powder, its properties, ingredients, how to make it, and we can hopefully figure out which class could do it."

Draco wanted to argue but Hermione gave him a firm push.

They worked in silence, occasionally finding something of interest but had nothing to do with the task at hand.

"I don't usually believe rumours, but I've got to say, this is interesting," a dry voice startled them both.

Hermione pointed her wand at the source of the voice. From the corner of her eyes, Draco did the same.

A highly-ordinary looking man, dressed in dark blue, looked at them with amusement displayed on his face. Next to him stood Harry, grinning.

"Are we disturbing your bonding time?" he asked innocently.

"Yes, Scarface, now please disappear from whichever hole you emerged from," Draco said, lowering his wand. Hermione kicked his shin.

"Ouch! What did you do that for? I did say 'please," the blond protested.

Hermione rolled her eyes and went to hug Harry. She then inspected the stranger.

"I am Lewis Richardson, currently assigned as head of the Navy," he offered his hand.

Hermione shook it cautiously.

"Navy?"

Richardson glanced at Harry, who nodded.

"I believe we'll be taking some of your time, Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy." Richardson took a seat opposite of the two Heads. Harry opted to stand, leaning on the nearest bookshelf. Hermione sat, face showing she was still cautious.

"A special joint task force was set up between the Aurors and the Unspeakables to investigate matters surrounding Miss Tristane Black," he began. Draco looked at the man with an impassive face, eyes giving nothing. Richardson continued to explain about the Navy and what they found at the farmhouse.

"Mr. Malfoy," he leaned forward, dropping his voice low. Draco and Hermione had to strain their ears. "For some reason, someone wants Miss Black's life desperately. We have no idea why. Your mother refused to speak to us, and we are hoping we can get some clues from you. If you refuse to cooperate with us, we can't do anything much."

"You can't speak to Tristane, she'll be terrified," Draco looked at Richardson hard.

The man sighed.

"We won't, if you help us. Look, we're not treating your cousin as a suspect. We want to help her."

"On the condition that you and your team share information with us," he decided. "You don't keep us in the dark; we'll do the same to you."

Richardson straightened, measuring the Head Boy.

"I think your choice of a boyfriend is good, Miss Granger."

Hermione wanted to argue but she stopped herself and sighed. Who would bother to believe that they were _not_ dating?

"Mr. Malfoy, do you have any idea, however remote or absurd it might be, of why someone, or a group of people, wants Miss Black's life?"

Draco exhaled. It was time to let the secret out.

"We're secure, Malfoy," Harry spoke up. "Madam Pince locked the library for us, and we cast some privacy charms just now."

"What a surprise, Harry Potter actually retains what he learns," Draco observed drily.

To his credit, Harry just rolled his eyes.

"When Tristane appeared, we had no idea who she was," Draco began, his mind returned to that particular day. "I was reading a book when I felt a disturbance at the edge of our property. I assumed it would be either Death Eaters on the run who wanted revenge or the general public who were unhappy with my father only incarcerated in Azkaban. I went to check and found five masked figures, all in black, attacking Tristane. She was all bloodied up and wounded and well… it was not a nice sight. I recognised the ring on her finger and I knew I had to rescue her.

I took her to mother to patch her up. Mother was shocked when she saw the ring on Tristane's finger and she said 'it's true' repeatedly. A while later she insisted I bring her to Gringotts and over there, she showed Tristane's ring – my mother took it with her. The goblins seemed to know what that means because they returned a minute later with some parchments. They're my grandfather's will."

"Hold on a sec – I thought Cygnus' was read upon his death?" Richardson looked at Draco doubtfully.

Draco shrugged. "It seemed that grandfather had two wills – one to be read upon his death and another to be read when that ring was shown."

"What did the will say?" Hermione asked.

"Well, it basically said that he has a son from another wife named Altair Black and one day, Altair or his descendants will return to England to claim the Black's mantle to return the Black family's name to its rightful station. Apparently a Seer told him that and Tristane is a child of some prophecy."

"But it did not explain why someone would want her dead," Harry interjected.

"Wait Harry, I think it makes sense," Hermione straightened up in her seat.

"Uh… it does?" Draco asked, confused. Harry shared the same expression. Richardson, however, looked at Hermione curiously.

"What if someone doesn't want the Black family to ever gain its 'rightful station'? What if that someone has been keeping tabs on the Blacks to prevent Altair or his descendants from ever returning?"

"You really are the brightest witch of your age," Richardson observed.

"You sound like you have known it all along," Draco commented.

Richardson shook his head. "I am just trained to not show my surprise, that's all. However, what you've just told me made sense with what one of my contacts said. I was informed that there's an unknown source that has been putting out contracts for assassins on Miss Black. Plenty of Galleons involved too."

"Do you know who that person is?" Draco was getting angry.

Richardson shook his head again. "Unfortunately, we're still investigating it, Mr. Malfoy. We'll let you know as soon as we find anything. By the way, how secure is she? We'd like to offer our assistance for that."

"She's…" Draco took a deep breath. "She's in the hospital wing at the moment. Old Hag Powder. We suspect at least one Hogwarts student to be involved, but we have no idea who that might be."

"Could it be a Slytherin? No offense, but your house has a lot of dickheads," Harry said.

"Honestly, I doubt it, Harry," Hermione answered before Draco could say anything. "The Slytherins seem fine with her since day one. The rest of the school, however…"

Harry sighed. Dislike for the Slytherin house would never disappear, it seemed.

"Mr. Richardson, I really appreciate your offer, but I don't think you should get involved in her protection," Draco said. "We want to catch the culprit red-handed and having a protective detail will alert the culprit that we're on to him or her."

Richardson mulled for a moment before nodding.

"Alright, but do keep in touch and make sure to inform me if anything happens to her immediately," he rose from his seat.

Richardson and Harry bid their goodbyes to the two Heads and exited the library.

"Back to books, Draco. Don't even think of escaping."

Draco sighed.


	16. Chapter 16

**_I had a very productive day yesterday and managed to finish this chapter days earlier than expected. I hope you enjoy the story._**

 _ **JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter world.**_

* * *

 **CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

Ginny's ribs hurt. But she could breathe, so that was a plus. She opened her eyes and was met with darkness. She wondered where she was and squinted, slowly adjusting to her surroundings. Ginny recognized the Hospital Wing, herself being one of its frequent visitors. She touched her ribs gently, realizing she must have injured herself during the match.

The match! What was the score?

Ginny looked around, hoping to see one of her team mates. She was dying to know the final score. She turned her head and was shocked to see a familiar figure on a bed to her right, sleeping peacefully. That figure was mostly covered in bandages, which worried Ginny. Had another attack occurred on Tristane?

The Gryffindor heard sounds from the hallways and strained her ears. She got down from her bed as fast as she could without causing much pain to her sides, and tiptoed to the door. She placed an ear against the door and could hear Madam Pomfrey berating someone. Or some people.

"… an Unspeakable is posted as a guard, so you do not have to sneak around, Mr. Malfoy. And you, Miss Granger, I expected better, though years of sneaking around with Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley has certainly corrupted you."

Ginny stifled laughter. She could hear Hermione protesting, but Madam Pomfrey cut her off.

"Do not give me that excuse! Two Prefects passed this area for tonight's patrol, so I do not see the point of both Head Girl and Head Boy to patrol this area as well. I can assure you, both Miss Weasley and Miss Black are in capable hands. Now get out from here!"

Draco was still protesting, but his voice was becoming distant. Ginny realized it too late that Madam Pomfrey was coming her way, probably to check on her patients. The Gryffindor was halfway to her bed when the door opened, revealing a furious-looking Mediwitch.

"Miss Weasley! What are you doing out of bed?" she whispered angrily.

"Uh… An Unspeakable?"

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips.

"Get on your bed, Miss Weasley. You are injured and you need to rest which entails you not sneaking around unnecessarily."

"Yes ma'am," Ginny complied meekly.

"An Unspeakeable?" Ginny asked again, while Madam Pomfrey checked her ribs.

The Mediwitch sighed.

"Miss Black is injured as well," she whispered. "She is recovering now. The Ministry sent an Unspeakable as her bodyguard. It is suspected that a Hogwarts student is working undercover to hurt Miss Black. I'm not supposed to tell you all these, but knowing you, you would run around trying to figure things out which may bring more harm than good. I expect you to cooperate with me now that I have told you that much, and stick to your bed until I say otherwise."

"But…"

"No buts, Miss Weasley. You can inquire further with Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger tomorrow. Good night."

"But the Quidditch score, Madam Pomfrey!"

The Mediwitch exited the room without answering the Gryffindor's question. Ginny sighed. So many questions.

"Two hundred seventy."

Ginny turned her head around. Tristane was facing her, the Slytherin's eye opened brightly in the darkness.

"Uh… what?"

"The score, you slowpoke," Tristane rolled her eye. "Both Gryffindor and Slytherin scored two hundred and seventy."

Ginny was surprised.

"Nobody won?"

Tristane grinned.

"So how are your ribs?"

"I've had worse," Ginny shrugged. "How are you? I heard you're injured as well. What happened?"

Tristane stared at her bandaged arms.

"I don't know. All I remember is that I started to feel this crazy itch on my arms when we were waiting for Madam Pomfrey to patch you up," the Slytherin recalled. "I started to scratch and it got so bad that I started to bleed. Not long after that, I passed out and here I am."

"Here we are," Ginny repeated softly. She looked into Tristane's eye, the grey eye seemed to be dancing gently. The Gryffindor found it mesmerizing.

"What did the Hat talk to you about?" the question came out of Ginny's mouth without the redhead meaning to.

"What Hat?"

"The Sorting Hat," Ginny explained. "I've always wondered why you took so long during the Sorting. What happened?"

"Oh, that." Tristane turned to her side, finding a comfortable spot. "It was just surprised that another Black is in existence and was asking me whether I have any specific house I really want to be in, just like the Blacks before me. So I told him that I'd prefer it if I could be with my cousin, but if that is not possible, any house would be fine. I think the Hat was shocked and It asked me about my origins. We chatted for a bit before It suddenly yelled 'Slytherin'."

"I guess that Hat was shocked because all Blacks, except for Sirius, were in Slytherin," Ginny commented. "Imagine if you were Sorted into Hufflepuffs – the whole Wizarding community would be in uproar!"

"Are Hufflepuffs that bad?"

Ginny shook her head. "Nah, Hufflepuffs are the most easy-going and nicest people in Hogwarts."

Tristane threw a pillow at Ginny.

"Are you saying I'm not nice?"

"I never said that!" Ginny threw a pillow back at the one-eyed girl, who dodged.

Tristane turned her body and reached over to her robe that was neatly folded on the side table next to her bed. She took something out and threw it to Ginny, who caught it easily.

"What's this?" Ginny inspected the item. It was a small, round, black stone, with some symbols carved on it.

"I made it just now when you were still asleep, before I myself fell asleep again. It's just something for you, like a good luck charm. Promise me you'll carry it with you all the time."

Ginny found it cute. She promised. She wanted to say something but she heard footsteps near the door. Both witches immediately went into sleep mode, and moments later Madam Pomfrey entered, checking her patients. Ginny and Tristane could not talk again, as Madam Pomfrey decided to take a seat in the room to guard them. It was quite some time before Ginny could fall asleep again, her palm holding the stone tightly.

* * *

"Do you think Mysterio is willing to do my patrolling schedule?"

Tristane shot her cousin an annoyed look.

"Do your own job, Drake," she scolded him.

The blond sighed. They were at the Heads' Quarter, along with Ginny and Hermione, who were doing their homework. Mysterio was the name they assigned the Unspeakable who was assigned as Tristane's bodyguard. To the student body, Mysterio was introduced as Mr. Graham Kato, a researcher whose current job was to ascertain which part of the curriculum needed updating. That cover was to allow him to roam around from classes to classes, pretending to analyse the curriculum while in reality he was investigating into Tristane's attacks. The four were certain that Graham Kato was not Mysterio's real name, and had started to call him 'Mysterio' whenever the Unspeakable was not nearby.

"I still wonder how on earth you were made Head Boy," Hermione commented absent-mindedly.

Draco rolled his eyes.

"McGonagall is touched by our star-crossed lovers fate, and is trying her best to make sure our romance last," he drawled.

"For such a tragically romantic story, why have you never asked her out?" Ginny was munching one of Narcissa's biscuits.

Draco looked thoughtful, and Hermione groaned.

"Stop giving him stupid ideas, Gin!"

"You being my future cousin-in-law is not a stupid idea, Hermione," Tristane commented.

Hermione gave her the evil eyes.

"Forgive me for my idiocy, Miss Granger, but would a witch of your stature kindly grace me with your company for the coming Slytherin party?" he managed to produce a red rose and held it out expectantly at Hermione.

"Slytherin party?" Ginny was curious.

"Wait is it the party the girls have been giggling about excitedly?" Tristane asked.

"We Slytherins have always been holding our own special parties thrice a year, by invitation only," he said proudly. "Even in the Slytherin house, only those invited by sponsors may enter, and I am one of those sponsors. So, would you go with me, Miss Granger?"

Hermione was suspicious. Secret parties were never good, and she did not want to break any law. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"It's your final year, 'Mione. You've given so much to the Wizarding world, now it's your time to relax and enjoy."

"Come on, Hermione, Ginny is going as well." Tristane turned to Draco. "Do I have the power to invite people?"

"I can put your name as a sponsor," Draco shrugged.

Tristane grinned. Ginny whooped with joy. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Alright," the Head Girl relented. "I'll go."

"When is this anyway?" Ginny asked, burping. Hermione kicked the redhead's leg while Tristane giggled.

Draco looked at his watch.

"In about… twenty minutes."

"What the hell! I need more time to prepare, Ferret!" Ginny exclaimed. Both Hermione and Tristane protested as well.

"Look, traditionally, we sponsors can only invite a few hours before the party started, to minimize the risk of authorities gate crashing," he explained. "Plus, since the party is meant for us to relax and enjoy ourselves, we made it a rule to not have any dress code. Pansy tends to go in her pyjamas, and Blaise liked to wear his stupid strawberry boxers. Also, I was thinking of not going to the party but present circumstances dictate otherwise."

"Strawberry boxers?" Tristane was laughing.

"Trust me," Draco tried to reassure the panicked witches, "nobody bothers to dress up for these parties. And there are several other special rules as well, but I can't tell you till we are at the venue. At any rate, let's go now. I bet some are already there."

The three witches followed Draco out of the Heads' Quarters. They passed Mysterio, who was pretending to admire a nearby statue. They nodded their heads at the Unspeakable, who returned it. Draco led them to the Slytherin dungeon, and in there, he led them down the spiral stairs to the end where the Seventh Year dorms were. They walked to the end of the corridor, to a statue of Salazar in front of the bathrooms, and stopped. Three boys – Hermione vaguely remembered them as Fifth Year students – stood around the statue, looking at the four of them expectantly.

"Evening, boys," Draco drawled. "Miss Black here is a sponsor, and the other two lovely ladies are our guests."

"Place a hand on the statue and swear to keep all about the parties – location, those attending, and whatever's going on – a secret," the tallest boy demanded. "Should you spill, you will be cursed into madness and even Merlin himself can't help you."

Hermione looked skeptical.

"This particular statue of Salazar was created by Salazar himself," Draco explained. "He was among the original sponsors of these parties. Legend has it that he placed a curse of madness on the statue that will affect anyone who can't keep the secret."

Ginny shrugged and placed a hand.

"As long as we don't tell, we won't go crazy, 'Mione," she reasoned.

Hermione gingerly placed a hand on the statue, with Tristane and Draco following at the same time. The four of them swore, and a vortex suddenly appeared next to the statue.

"How does this statue work?" Hermione was amazed.

"That's a secret, babe," Draco winked. "After me, ladies."

He stepped into the vortex, and Tristane followed immediately. Hermione hesitated, but the impatient Ginny pushed her best friend and the both of them stumbled into the vortex. They appeared in a room half full of other Slytherin students. Some were already dancing. Blaise was apparently in charge of the music. As Draco promised, Blaise was wearing a yellow boxer with strawberries print. Ginny laughed at the sight.

"Oh by the way," Draco shouted over the music, "there's a couple more rules. In here, you can be yourself and do whatever you want, as long as you don't harm others. Don't be surprised when people come to you and ask for a kiss – you can either accept or reject, no strings attached. Pansy likes to discuss Muggle literature and tends to recite the Shakespeare guy, while Nott loves to talk about baking. Blaise is a terrific kisser, I guarantee it."

"You and Blaise?" Tristane was surprised.

"Hey, it was a fantastic kiss," Draco shrugged. "When the party is over, you can return back to your normal lives and ignore most of these kids of you want to. As I said, this place is for you to relax and enjoy yourselves. Do whatever you want. This place has everything for us."

He dragged Hermione to another room, wanting to show her some books.

"If I don't know better, I'd say he's trying to get into her pants," Tristane commented.

"I'm hungry," Ginny groaned. "Let's look for food."

They were passing Blaise when the boy noticed them and called them over.

"Not now, Blaise, I'm starving," Ginny complained. Blaise raised his eyes.

"No love for this wonderful music man?"

"No, I much prefer food. Right, Pirate?"

Before Tristane could answer, Daphne appeared and asked, "Food? Did I hear food?"

"Yes, this guy here is starving me to death."

"I'll show you our food selection, woman," Daphne dragged Ginny to another room, leaving Tristane with Blaise.

"Any song you like in particular, milady?"

"Uh… do you happen to have any Mozart pieces?"

Blaise laughed.

"Don't mock me, sweetie. Let me put on this cool song I heard a couple of weeks ago."

A catchy tune played and he dragged a laughing Tristane to the dance floor. She was thoroughly amused, her first dance was with a boy wearing a pyjama top and yellow boxer with strawberries printed on it. Blaise sneakily closed the distance between them and before she realized it, his face was just inches away from hers. She tensed, not sure what she should do.

"You're gorgeous, princess," his eyes were intense.

She was speechless. She had read these things in the books, but she was not prepared for any of it. He was inching closer. Panic started to rise in her. What should she do?

A hand wedged itself between her and Blaise. An annoyed Draco looked at Blaise.

"Dude!" Blaise protested.

"Not my cousin, Blaise," Draco shook his head. "Unhand her."

Tristane was annoyed.

"Drake, I can look after myself. Besides, I thought you said in this party, I can do anything?"

She stomped her feet and huffed off. Draco called her but he was ignored. Hermione stopped him from following Tristane.

Hermione shook her head, giving Draco her stare of condemnation.

"Hey! I was just protecting her!"

"Are you trying to say that I'm dangerous?" Blaise was incredulous.

"You are a womaniser, Blaise. You're my best friend and I love you, but I don't want you to destroy the morals of my cousin."

Blaise stared at him in disbelief, while Hermione hollered with laughter.

"Draco Malfoy talks about morals," tears streamed from Hermione's eyes. "What next? McGonagall allows us to not do our homework?"

Draco was indignant. "You're my date for the night, you are supposed to defend me."

Hermione just kept on laughing. Blaise grinned and returned to his music station. Draco turned to Hermione and grabbed her hands, pulling the both of them to the dance floor.

"Let's dance, my lady."

* * *

While there was no Firewhiskey and Butterbeer in the party, there were plenty of other alcoholic beverages and harder liquor around. Daphne had told Ginny, in a joking way, that Firewhiskey and Butterbeer were for the masses, and the Slytherins were just too good for those. She later on confessed that a Slytherin Fifth Year sponsored the drinks for the night, and his father owned companies producing those drinks.

"I know you lot are filthy rich and stuff, but what's the point of sponsoring these things for free all the time? Looks like a waste of money to me," Ginny commented, drinking one of the liquors given to her.

"Traditional pureblood parents can be harsh, strict, and highly demanding," Daphne said quietly, watching a couple of boys smoking something in the corner. She wondered whether Ginny would like to try whatever it was being smoked. "Especially during the Dark Lord's reign, a lot of expectations were burdened onto us. We have to be the best in everything. Not only that, with the rest of the school hating us, we have to put up a tough front. These parties were the only thing that helped reduce our stress. Parents of sponsors donate things to help us cope with life, basically."

She then brightened up. "Would you like to see something entertaining?"

Daphne then dragged Ginny to another room, this one circular, with a podium of sorts in the middle. Pansy, in her pink bunny pyjamas, stood there, reciting something. A small crowd of Slytherins cheered her on.

"What's she doing?" Ginny whispered.

"Reciting some poems by some dead Muggle poet," Daphne laughed. "Inside that bitchy exterior is a Muggle poetry lover."

Ginny had no knowledge of any Muggle poet, dead or alive, but that did not matter. Pansy recited poem after poem with such passion that Ginny felt she was being drawn into a world of fantasy.

"I'm getting more drinks. Want more?"

Ginny nodded. Not long after Daphne left, a tall, pale boy stood next to Ginny.

"You're very pretty. Wanna make out?" he was obviously drunk.

Ginny was startled. What made this Slytherin think that she would kiss him?

"No," she shook her head, taking a step away from the boy. "I pass."

"Ah, a pity," he looked disappointed, but left her alone. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"You know, we Slytherins do abide with the rule of 'no means no'," Daphne had returned with two long glasses in hand, rolling her eyes. She offered one to Ginny, who accepted and drowned it in one gulp.

"Why would a Slytherin want to kiss me?"

"Dummy, in this party, everyone is equal. Do whatever crap you wanna do, as long as the people involved give their consent."

A hand tapped on Daphne's shoulder.

"Hey Daphne, we're going to play spin the bottle. Do you girls wanna join?" Theo grinned at them.

Ginny shook her head, giving the excuse of checking up on Tristane and Hermione. Daphne rolled her eyes again, and left with Theo. Ginny went from room to room, in search of her two friends. She passed students doing what students would do in a party, and noticed there were quite a few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws around, mostly older students. The only Gryffindor she had seen aside from herself was Hermione. That was not a surprise – Slytherin and Gryffindor were always in competition, to the point of hating each other. She was shocked when she found Luna coming out from a room looking dishevelled, with a Sixth Year Slytherin coming out a moment later, both giggling. Luna just grinned at Ginny, and dragged the Slytherin away.

Ginny found Hermione, Tristane, and Draco in a corner of a room full of students playing wizard's chess.

"These drunks are having a competition," Draco informed Ginny, when the redhead reached them.

"Are you guys joining?"

Tristane laughed.

"I'm terrible at chess," Hermione confessed.

"Me too," Tristane added.

"I'm too good for them," Draco said in a superior tone.

Hermione smacked his arm.

"Ferret, have you kissed anyone tonight?" Ginny asked suddenly.

Tristane and Hermione looked at her oddly, while Draco looked confused.

"No, why? What happened?"

"Are you too good to be kissed or are you not good enough to be kissed?" Ginny teased him.

"Are you trying to get me to kiss you, Weaslette? In front of my date here?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Just admit that nobody wants to kiss you, Draco," the Head Girl said.

"I can get anyone here to kiss me, Granger. Unlike you."

Hermione made an indignant voice.

"Wait, are we the only four who have not kissed anyone yet tonight?" Tristane asked.

"I think so," shrugged Draco.

"That's it!" Ginny declared. She felt warm and her head was slightly lighter. Feeling braver and more reckless. She wondered how potent were the drinks she had been drinking. "To solve this problem and dilemma, let's kiss each other. I'll take Hermione."

"What – no! I'm not kissing Tristane!" Draco was horrified.

"Thanks, cousin. First, you denied me getting a kiss from Blaise. Now you don't even want to kiss me – not that I want to kiss you in the first place."

"Since I won't kiss you, Ferret, I'll take Tristane then," Ginny decided.

"Wait are you both serio-" Draco cut off Hermione, placing his lips on hers.

Not wanting to be outdone, Ginny turned to Tristane, put her hands on the one-eyed witch's cheeks, and closed in for a kiss. When it was done, she released Tristane and grinned at the shocked girl.

"Woohoo that's the way to do it, girl!" a highly intoxicated Daphne stepped in, hugging both Ginny and Tristane.

"Right, now that you're getting into the party mood, I need you to join us for a Muggle game of beer pong. Or pop. Or pot. It's fun!"

Theo appeared out of nowhere, dragging a red-faced Hermione and a nervous-looking Draco with him, following after Daphne.

* * *

Her head was aching. Pounding. She wanted to rip her brains out badly. No, not wanted. Needed. She moaned her pain, and felt her throat was as dry as the Sahara Desert. Water. Water and ripping her brains out of her skull.

Tristane turned to her side, with eye still closed, intending to reach out to the jug of water she kept at her bedside in the night. She was surprised when something block her movement. Something big. As large as her. Warm. Breathing.

Shocked, she opened her eye and was met with the sleeping figure of Hermione, a leg draped over her body. Tristane was confused. When did the Head Girl came to her room? The one-eyed witch looked around, wanting to whisper to Pansy for help to get some water, but then she realised she was not in her room. She slowly rise her head, scanning her surroundings. Two familiar figures were sleeping on the bed at the opposite side of her. A messy-haired blond, hugging the form of a handsome, dark-skinned boy, who was waving at Tristane.

"You alright, sweetie?" Blaise whispered from across the room.

Tristane wanted to laugh. But then she remembered she had issues with her head and throat. She pointed at her head, then her throat, and shook her head. Blaise flicked his wand and a vial of potion appeared next to Tristane's pillow. He gestured for her to drink it, and she did. She felt much better instantly.

Her movements woke Hermione, who was shocked and immediately reached for her wand.

"Easy, Hermione, easy," Tristane raised her hands, showing she was unarmed. "You're among friends."

Breathing heavily, Hermione looked around with wild eyes. Once the Head Girl was confident there was no danger, she lowered her wand and calmed down.

"Where am I?" she croaked. Her throat was dry as well.

Blaise did the same thing and another vial appeared, which Tristane got Hermione to drink.

"I have no idea where we are, but I'm sure Blaise knows the answer," Tristane whispered. "Unfortunately he is occupied with my cousin."

Hermione took a proper look at the two boys and stifled her laughter. The two girls climbed down from their bed and went over to the two boys.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked in a whisper.

Blaise grinned innocently. That usually indicated he was up to no good.

"I can't wait to see Draco's face when he wakes up and realised that he had been hugging me all night long instead of his Hermione."

As if on cue, Draco murmured, "...Hermione…"

Tristane giggled, trying not to burst out laughing. Hermione's face turned red. The Head Girl wanted to strangle the blond right there and then.

Blaise leaned and whispered to Draco's ear, "Are you enjoying my tender body, Draco sweetheart?"

Draco frowned and mumbled, "…weird, Hermione. Your body is rough like a man's."

"I do not have a rough body," Hermione protested.

Draco opened his eyes, confused.

"Wha-"

He saw he was hugging a laughing Blaise tightly, with a red-faced Hermione behind him. Tristane was on the ground, pounding on the floor, howling with laughter. He pushed Blaise away and got on the floor.

"What the hell, Blaise!"

His best friend continued laughing, tears streaming down his eyes. Draco turned to Hermione, eyes pleading.

"Look, Hermione, I wasn't insulting you or anything. I was just dreaming and this idiot was making fun of me," he apologised.

"Dreaming?" Blaise rolled, laughing again.

"You're in his dreams, Hermione!" Tristane hollered with laughter.

When all of them had calmed down (and Hermione's face returned to her normal colours), Hermione asked again, "Where are we, Blaise?"

"Oh, we're in my dorm room," he explained. "You guys were pissed out drunk, and I, as a male, couldn't enter the girls' dorm. So I brought all of you here. Theo and Pansy were here as well but they have left for breakfast. As much as I wanted to put you and Draco together, Hermione, I know he'd kill me if I share a bed with his beloved cousin."

"Where's Ginny?" Hermione asked, looking around. No signs of the redhead.

"No idea. Weaselette was with Daphne and Luna when I left the party."

"She'll be fine, she's a bloody Gryffindor," Draco interjected. "Let's wash up or something, I'm hungry. Good thing it's the weekend – I want to catch some sleep after breakfast."

Nobody seemed to notice Tristane frowning unhappily.

* * *

Ginny was dreaming.

She was standing on a cliff, overlooking the horizon. It was night time, but the moon was shining brightly, lighting the valley below her. The land was barren and empty except for one lone tree in the distance. She decided she should go there, and she did. She climbed down the cliff and trekked through the barren land. When she neared the tree, she could see two hooded figures sitting side by side on a long bench. She squinted her eyes, trying to see better, but the moon did not shine on them.

Her hand went to her pocket, wanting to grab her wand. But it was not there. Her wand was not with her. She was rather frightened now, but decided to go ahead. What's the worst that could have happen anyway?

She stood in front of the two hooded figures, unsure on what to do next.

"Uh… what's your name?" she asked lamely.

Right. Start with unnecessary niceties. She felt like kicking herself.

The two figures were silent.

"Come one, guys, I'm just asking you a simple question," she was starting to be impatient.

The two figures kept their silence.

Without warning, swords appeared in their hands and they slashed her to bits. She did not have the time to scream – she was dead.

Then her dream changed.

She was facing a smiling Tristane, who was dressed in a beautiful black gown. The Slytherin had both of her eyes – no eye patch in sight. Tristane was saying something to her and started laughing. It must have been a funny story, Ginny thought. But Ginny could not hear what Tristane was saying, so the redhead just laughed along, hoping it was the right response.

It was.

Tristane leaned close and kissed Ginny on the lips, to the redhead's surprise. Ginny found that she did not mind it. She closed her eyes and opened her lips, allowing Tristane entry. Ginny let her mind drifted, enjoying the sensation. But something felt wrong, as if the whole thing was different from what she expected. Tristane smelled different and she tasted… wrong?

Troubled, Ginny took a step away from Tristane and opened her eyes.

A pair of blue-grey eyes stared into hers. Blue-grey, instead of dark grey. Also, a pair of eyes, with no eye patch attached. The hair was blonde instead of dark brown.

"Hey Gin, are you alright?"

Ginny suddenly felt her lungs were constricted. She sat up, trying to take a breath. Daphne looked at her with worry.

"What's wrong, Gin?"

Ginny did not answer the question. She struggled to calm herself to allow air enter her lungs. Ginny stared at Daphne. They were both on a bed, presumably Daphne's. They were both naked as well, and Ginny stared at a few angry red marks over Daphne's shoulder.

"Your shoulder. What happened?" Ginny managed to blurt out.

Daphne, still looking worried, glanced at her shoulder briefly.

"Oh, this was from last night," the Slytherin answered. "You did it."

"I do? Why would I do that? What the hell is going on?"

For a brief moment Ginny saw the hurt in Daphne's eyes before the Slytherin put on her mask of indifference.

"Don't you remember what happened last night?" Daphne asked coolly.

Ginny thought hard. She realised her head was pounding. How much alcohol did she drink last night? She remembered she kissed Tristane; the soft lips, the sweet taste. What happened after that? Ginny racked her brains, trying to get her memories back. She remembered parts of playing some games with Tristane, Daphne, Theo, Draco, and Hermione. Where was Hermione, by the way? Ginny remembered chugging drink after drink, whatever that was offered. Ginny remembered feeling giddy and insanely daring, and kissed a cute Slytherin boy when some random drunk girl dared her. She remembered Daphne laughing and asked jokingly, "When's my turn, you Weaslette?" Ginny remembered grinning mischievously after that and jumped on Daphne. Ginny remembered Tristane seemingly forcing herself to smile and walked off someplace else. But why? What happened? Ginny remembered Daphne whispered something in her ears and they went to some dark corner and they kissed and they touched and oh my goodness they had sex!

Ginny gave Daphne a panicked look.

"There's no way we can get pregnant, right?"

Daphne rolled her eyes.

"If that's the only thing you're worried about, that's good. I thought you're going to hate yourself for sleeping with a girl or something."

Daphne touched Ginny's cheek with the tip of her fingers.

"Are you alright, Gin?" she asked softly.

Ginny wanted to scream "NO" and run away to hiding, but was rooted to the spot.

"My parents will kill me," she croaked.

"Is it because of you slept with a Slytherin or because I'm a girl?"

"Uh… both, I think. Both."

Daphne looked at Ginny sympathetically and hugged the Gryffindor. Ginny closed her eyes and rested her head on Daphne's shoulder. Her head was pounding and she was getting hungry.

"Look, nobody needs to know what happened," Daphne said softly. "What happened at the party stays there, and that includes what we did last night. This does not have to mean anything – it's just a party and we got carried away, that's all. If you want it to be so."

Ginny felt relieved. No strings attached – she had forgotten about that. But she felt sad and confused. What did she want?

"Daphne, I… Thanks for the offer. I really appreciate it. But I…"

Ginny sighed and closed her eyes. Daphne did not say anything, waiting for the Gryffindor to continue.

"I thought my first time would be special and I wouldn't be too drunk to not remember," Ginny said softly.

Daphne froze.

"I'm sorry that I was a drunken mistake, and I as I said, we can pretend that nothing happened."

Ginny frowned and looked up. Daphne looked away, her expression was unreadable.

"Wait, I didn't mean that. You're not a drunken mistake. What I meant was, I thought it would be during my wedding or something," Ginny added hastily. "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, Daphne, it wasn't my intention."

Daphne just nodded. She climbed down her bed and rummaged her trunk, facing away from Ginny.

"I understand, Gin, and my offer still stands. You're a nice and cute girl, with a crazy sense of humour. I'll pretend that nothing happened."

Ginny had no idea what to say. Her headache was still there, her stomach was rumbling, and her heart was confused. She sat there in silence, watching Daphne covered herself with a bath robe and walked out to the bathroom. At the door, Daphne stopped.

"It was my first time too, you know," the Slytherin said softly. She then exited the room, leaving Ginny feeling guilty.

Ginny groaned and massaged her temple. There was no way she would date a girl in public – she did not want to deal with her parents' and an army of brothers' anger. While she could not care less what the rest of the world thinks, she definitely did not want to lose her family's love and support. What's more, it was with a Slytherin. With a Greengrass. Her brothers would roast her alive and she was certain she would be called a traitor. Traitor of the Blood Traitors sounded fancy enough.

But would that not made her any different to what happened during Voldemort's reign? That people were segmented into different types and that what you were mattered much more than who you were? While she was not involved in the front lines of the War, she sure did have her share of fights, and she did not endure all those trials for nothing. She prayed and wanted and fought for a different and better world. But was her current world any different than what it was before?

She sighed and looked at her body idly. There were a few love bites spread evenly over her body, and she wondered briefly whether she was satisfied last night or not. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her head. She dated many people before, nothing too serious aside from Harry, and she was definitely not in love with every single person she dated before. Harry would probably the only person she dated that she actually loved.

Did she like Daphne? Would she want to try? She had never dated a Slytherin or a girl before, so would it cause a lot of problems for her? Ginny believed in having an adventurous life, so would this count as an adventure? She did not like to think that the first time she had sex it was out of sheer drunkenness without any meanings attached to it. It gnawed at her.

When Daphne returned, the Slytherin was surprised to find Ginny still sitting on her bed, naked.

"What's wrong, Weaslette?"

Ginny took a deep breath and gathered her courage. She was a Gryffindor. She could do anything.

"Would you like to go out with me sometime? On a date?"

Ginny made her decision. She was still in school, for Merlin's sake. Nothing was permanent. This was another adventure. She looked at Daphne, full of determination.

"Are… are you sure?"

Ginny nodded.

Dahpne broke into a smile and flung her arms around Ginny, hugging the Gryffindor tightly.

"Only if you take a shower, you stinky," the Slytherin whispered in her ears, smiling.

Ginny laughed. Her guilt receded, but now her mind was filled of Tristane's sad face. Now what had she done?


	17. Chapter 17

_**Hi Skellyshook, I'm not sure who Jamie is, but I'm glad you like the chapter. Thanks for the review, as always.**_

 _ **Have a great weekend, guys, and thank you so much for taking time to read this story of mine. My apologies in advance for any mistakes, especially grammatical ones.**_

 _ **JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter world.**_

* * *

 **CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

Rita Skeeter was happy.

She had been in hiding, away from England, for many weeks, running away from bloodthirsty Black House lawyers. Mercifully, Jerome's benefactor took her in and she was brought to Patrick Fawley's hideout deep in the Amazon via Portkey. Some days she followed the Fawley patriarch visiting the natives, and some days she stayed at the cabin, reading or helping out Jerome carrying out the butler's duties.

Today, an owl arrived from Patrick's grandchildren in Hogwarts. Jerome had untied the letter from the owl's outstretched feet and delivered it to the Fawley patriarch in his lab. Rita had been uninterested in it initially. Why would a letter from some snotty brats have anything interesting? But moments later, when Patrick emerged from his lab, smiling widely and offered the envelope to Rita, she started to pick up interest.

"I believe you will be good at this job, Miss Skeeter," Patrick said happily.

Rita took the envelope and took out the contents, spreading the piece of parchment and several photos on the coffee table.

"What are these, sir?"

Patrick took a seat on the sofa opposite her and lighted his cigar.

"Those are your next job, Miss Skeeter. I have a feeling you might be starting to get restless, no?"

Rita nodded her head in agreement. She read the letter and she found herself smiling. She had a hunch what Patrick wanted her to do. She looked at the photos in front of her.

"I never knew the Slytherins have secret parties," she commented.

The Malfoy heir dancing with that Know-It-All bitch, looking very intimate; Weasley kissing the damn Black witch; Weasley chugging glass after glass of alcohol; and a passed out Granger bitch being carried by a boy in a yellow-coloured boxer with strawberries printed on it. This was like an early Christmas present for Rita and she blessed Patrick's grandchildren in her heart. They must be really skilled to be allowed into that secret party.

"I still have some contacts at several publishing houses and I can write up articles under pseudonyms," Rita said rapidly, plans forming in her mind.

"No, Miss Skeeter, I do not want to do that," Patrick shook his head.

Rita was surprised.

"We tried the print media and it did not go as we hoped for," he continued. "No, I want us to try from another angle. The parents and family angle."

He looked at her intensely, and she felt as if she was back at Hogwarts going through an exam again.

"Parents and family. Of course, sir. I can do that right away," Rita hoped she sounded sure and confident enough that her benefactor would not think she had not caught on yet.

Patrick looked satisfied.

"Jerome will take you back to England right now. Please complete it as soon as you can."

The butler appeared, as if he had timed the conversation. He offered a hand to Rita, who accepted it. She gathered the letter and photos, and bid her goodbye to Patrick.

* * *

Tristane nodded her head listlessly when the rest of her class nodded its collective heads, affirming something Professor Delacour was saying. The Slytherin suppressed the urge to check on her pocket watch, not wanting to be seen as impatient. While the class usually held her undivided attention, this time she just could not summon enough strength to try to listen.

The bell rang and she shouted for joy in her heart. She stuffed her books inside her bags and was following the rest of her friends out of the classroom when Professor Delacour called her to stay back. Tristane sighed but managed to keep her face impassive. The professor shooed the rest out of the classroom, and threatened detention to Draco who was on the defensive and swore that Tristane did not do whatever mischief the good professor was suspecting. Tristane rolled her eyes at that, and wished Professor Delacour was not there so that she can give her cousin the finger. He could be impossible at times. Fortunately, Hermione and Ginny were there to drag him out of the vicinity.

"Please take a seat, Miss Black," Fleur said softly, conjuring two comfortable armchairs.

Tristane obliged. She waited patiently while Fleur conjured two cups of hot chocolate and accepted a cup when offered.

"I am sorry we are unable to have our discussion in my office," Fleur apologised sincerely. "My husband is here for a visit and for some reason decided that my office is the best place to take a rest, even though I do have my quarters. Fortunately, this classroom is free for the rest of the afternoon."

"Professor, did I do anything wrong? I don't want to be rude but I still have a couple more classes." Not that Tristane was interested in attending said classes; she just did not have the mood for studies.

Fleur raised an eyebrow.

"Forgive me if I am wrong, but from recent observations, you have not been paying any attention to your classes, Miss Black." Tristane wanted to protest but Fleur cut her off. "I have informed your other professors that you will be indisposed for the rest of the afternoon."

Tristane kept quiet. Suddenly the inviting hot chocolate seemed menacing. She heard stories from Draco that people tend to drop potions of all sorts into drinks including a potion that will make people tell the truth and had warned her to be careful when accepting drinks from people. Was the professor doing that to her right now?

"If you don't want to talk, I understand, but please hear me out first," Fleur did not seem to realize what Tristane was thinking. "For the past two weeks, the quality of your school work plummeted. Your aunt is very worried."

"Is Aunt Cissa spying on me?" Tristane was surprised.

Fleur shook her head.

"No, I was referring to your other aunt – Professor Tonks. She noticed that your enthusiasm for studies disappeared suddenly and you made a lot of mistakes in Potions that you nearly caused accidents multiple times," Fleur explained. Tristane looked into her mug. "She wanted to be the one to talk to you about this but she's afraid that you will not like it due to your family circumstances and age difference. She entrusted this to me. Are you alright, Miss Black? Is there any other attacks that we don't know of?"

Tristane shook her head. She looked away, out of the windows, watching the clouds inching lazily in the sky.

"Tristane," Fleur said gently, using her student's first name now, "I won't tell anyone else whatever we discuss in this room. Believe me, I am genuinely concerned as well."

"Why would you care? If you are that worried about my grades, fine, I will make sure that I won't fail." Tristane suddenly felt angry and she just wanted to hide in her room. She stood abruptly, placed her mug on the table, and slung her satchel. "I am sorry I had not been a good student for the past couple of weeks. I will make sure it won't happen again, professor."

She headed for the door but Fleur was quicker. The blonde blocked the door. Tristane stood still, emotions running in her mind and heart. Fleur noticed the Slytherin was shaking and she was worried. Without warning, Tristane slumped to the floor and broke down. Fleur immediately knelt and gathered Tristane in her arms, hugging her tightly.

"It's alright Tristane, it's alright," Fleur said soothingly, trying to calm Tristane. Fleur knew that teenagers were full of emotions – heck, she was quite an emotional teenager, but what was going on with this particular teen? Her Veela part tried to read Tristane's emotions, but there were too many emotions jumbled up, warring with each other.

Fleur stroke Tristane's back repeatedly, hoping the motion would soothe the one-eyed witch. After some time, Tristane seemed to have stopped crying, with only the occasional sob. But the Slytherin refused to let go of Fleur, so Fleur just held her student tightly, wishing that Tristane would say something.

"I miss my dad," Tristane said softly, so softly that Fleur nearly missed it. Fleur squeezed Tristane's arm to show that she heard.

"I didn't stay with him till his last breath," Tristane continued, hiccupping. "I was Portkeyed to England. I have no idea where he was buried – or whether he was buried at all. I don't know which part of Australia we were in his dying moments. I'm such a terrible child. I've failed him. I've failed so many people, I'm such a disappointment. That's why Ginny is dating Daphne, isn't it? But why did she even kiss me in the first place? Why?"

Fleur was thoroughly confused. She racked her brain and connected Daphne to Miss Greengrass, a student in Slytherin house. What was going on with the Slytherins this year? And just what kind of mess had her sister in law gotten herself into?

"Who Portkeyed you to England, Tristane?" Fleur asked as gently as she could, so as to not alarm Tristane. The blonde decided to ignore the rest of the information for the time being, preferring to deal with one thing at a time, starting from something she could understand.

"My dad," whispered Tristane. "He shoved a ring into my hands and it was activated and I suddenly appeared in England. He was trying to protect me, professor. He died for me."

Tristane started sobbing again, which alarmed Fleur. In the manual for teaching, a guide on how to deal with emotionally sobbing teenagers should be included.

"His death is not for naught, Tristane," Fleur said soothingly. She took a wild guess, "Even though they managed to attack you here, we are still able to avert disasters, no? We will protect you, Tristane, don't you worry."

Tristane clung to Fleur, as if in desperation.

"Then why is Ginny with Daphne? I thought we had something good going on, that we have some sort of chemistry," Tristane despaired.

Fleur was starting to despair too – why must teenagers insist on jumping and mixing all topics?

"Have you talked to her about it? Have you told her how you feel?" Fleur kept her voice low and calm.

"Before I could, she kissed me and the next thing I knew she is now with Daphne," Tristane sobbed.

Fleur was at a loss. What was she to do? She was not comfortable with the idea of meddling in her sister in law's private affairs. She fervently hoped none of the Weasleys knew about Ginny starting to date girls – she dreaded going to family gatherings in the near future. She could imagine Molly blaming her for whatever Ginny was doing, just because Fleur happened to be teaching in the school Ginny was attending.

Fleur could only hug the sobbing girl, consoling her in silence. On one hand, Fleur was relieved that nobody was trying to attack Tristane at the moment. On the other, what was she to do with the information given? Fleur decided to let things be for the moment, see how it went. She was certain that the teenagers could sort their personal problems amongst themselves. Fleur hated to get involved in such drama unnecessarily.

* * *

Tuesdays were set strictly for the poor and homeless. Those not fitting into the two categories were asked to come another day, regrettably. Exceptions were made for emergencies, of course. Like this particular patient who decided to throw caution to the wind and ate a boxful of peanuts, causing parts of his braces to come off.

Dr. John Granger was glad when that patient finally left – this was his third time this month to be eating something that caused problems to his braces. Why do people insist on being so stubborn? John glanced at the clock – it was home time – and grabbed his keys. His assistants would close the clinic for him later on. John went into his car and waited for his wife, who appeared moments later, and kissed him on his cheeks. He noticed a large brown envelope she held.

"What's that, sweetie?"

"A letter addressed to us, honey," his wife answered. She started to open the envelope carefully, not wanting to accidentally rip its contents. "I have wanted to open it since lunch time but patients kept streaming in."

Not expecting anything of importance, John gave his attention to the road, navigating the Volvo through the busy traffic. A gasp from his wife made him turn his head and looked at her with concern.

"Bad news?"

His wife turned her eyes on him, eyes full of tears.

"John, it's our Hermione…"

* * *

Molly sipped her tea, savouring its sweet taste. Percy, bless his soul, gave her a box of that tea, whatever it was called, yesterday, and she had taken a liking to it. He had taken leave for a week and decided to spend it at the Burrows, to Molly's eternal delight. Ron and George decided to spend the week there as well, and so far the three brothers managed to keep things civil between them. A little bit friendly, even. Perhaps it was out of courtesy for their mother, or perhaps they had grown up. But whatever it was, Molly was glad three of her children were home. She was disappointed that again, Charlie was too busy with his dragons in Romania, while Bill opted to pay his wife a visit. Why could he not visit his mother instead? Molly could not understand why her daughter in law would rather work than keeping a proper home for Bill. When would they ever be ready for children? Molly was still of the opinion that Bill could do better than Fleur Delacour. He should marry someone homey and stable instead of an ice queen.

She was lost in thoughts when an owl flew in and offered her his leg. A letter addressed to her. The writing was not one she recognized, and she wondered who it could be from. She untied the letter and gave the owl some treats then opened the large envelope. A parchment and a photo came out. Molly stared at the photo. She could not believe her eyes. Anger and confusion surged through her, and she grabbed at the parchment, reading it with speed.

"Boys, come down now! We need to grab your father and go to Hogwarts. NOW!" she yelled at her sons, not caring whether anyone was ready for travelling right that instant.

She was furious. What was it with the Black family that they would just not leave her family alone? She killed Bellatrix. Must she kill another?

* * *

Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was having the most terrible headache she had ever experienced in her lifetime. It seemed that nearly the whole Weasley clan barged in unannounced into her office (she really should stop dilly-dallying and bar access to Order of the Phoenix members on her Floo network. Initially she allowed it in case someone needed to get to her immediately, as nobody could Apparate into Hogwarts without her permission. But if people would start barging in when they were highly emotional, she would stop that access permanently. Her head was pounding like mad.) and started a ruckus. Well, the whole Weasley clan was in Hogwarts, although the youngest child was somewhere in the school, most probably having a class, and the oldest was spending time with his wife, presumably in Professor Delacour's private quarters. Except for Charlie who did not make an appearance and Minerva would bet her whole life's savings that he was still in Romania with his beloved dragons.

Molly had made a grand entrance by yelling something about lesbians and the evilness of the Blacks and Bellatrix trying to get her revenge from beyond the grave, and Ronald, as fiery as ever, ranted about needing to protect his sister's virtues (Minerva did not want to know anything about people's private virtues). Strangely enough, Percy was trying to calm his mother and brother instead of looking down at everybody (Percy actually getting off his high horse? Somebody call the press!). Poor Arthur was there, trying to drag his wife and sons back home and kept on apologizing to Minerva for the intrusion. George, that mischief maker, decided to lean against the wall and watched the whole thing with interest, looking thoroughly amused.

"I am sorry to interrupt everyone, but can you please tell me why in the name of the good Merlin are you here this moment?" Minerva did not even want to get involved – she knew how difficult the Weasley clan can be, and at this moment, she had a mountain of tasks to deal with and she did not want to add the Weasleys into that plate.

"Minerva, please, you have to do something!" Molly sounded like she was in a panic mode.

"Has something bad happened? Were you under attack? Have you informed the Ministry?" Minerva was concerned. Rogue Death Eaters were something she could handle.

"It's Ginny! My beloved, darling, Ginevra. She is in such a terrible, terrible situation," bemoaned Molly.

Molly shoved something to Minerva's face and the Headmistress found herself to be mildly surprised to see a picture of the youngest Weasley locking lips passionately with the Black heiress. Interesting, but not altogether unexpected. Minerva made a mental note to get the five Galleons she won from Professor Delacour. It was unfortunate that Andromeda refused to get involved with any betting.

"How can you allow this to happen, Minerva? I thought you're supposed to protect my child from danger. This must be Bellatrix's work. I knew it! That evil bitch is digging her way out of the grave and has returned to take her revenge. Why must she take my child away? Oh, poor, poor Ginny…"

Minerva exhaled, trying to calm herself. She was certain as Headmistress she was under no obligation to prevent school children from falling in love with each other.

"Molly, isn't it wonderful that Ginevra has found love again?" she kept her tone light.

Molly's eyes popped wide open.

"Besides, as you are well aware, both Miss Weasley and Miss Granger are getting close to both Mr. Malfoy and Miss Black to dig for information that may prove crucial in determining the threats and dangers Miss Black, as the sole heiress to the Black fortune, may pose to the wizarding community," Minerva continued on before Molly could say anything.

"And for that you allow my sister to be a lesbian? Why can't you just give that bitch Veritaserum or something?" Ron was visibly angry.

"Language, Mr. Weasley," Minerva's tone reverted to her disciplinary mode, making the offending boy flinched and mumbled his apologies. George, of course, was laughing. Minerva shot him a look and George kept quiet. "We do not give our school children Veritaserum freely, Mr. Weasley. We do appreciate our students and treat them with dignity and respect. I am disappointed during your time here, you have not realized as much."

Ron wanted to protest, but Minerva cut him off.

"Love is love, and you cannot lie to yourself about your feelings. It is not my policy to forbid my students from falling in love with each other, but it is my duty to ensure they do not engage in any illegal activities within the school boundaries," Minerva's tone was firm. "It is not my business to engage in my students' private affairs, unless those affairs break school rules. I believe kissing another student is not breaking any school rules."

"Ronald, do behave," Percy hissed, embarrassed for his brother's behaviour. "Remember where we are right now."

"Yeah, Ronnie, and remember that Gin's a big girl now and can skin your backside in no time if you piss her off," George added, grinning.

Ron did not seem to be satisfied, but kept quiet. Minerva was relieved for a moment – now she needed to calm Molly.

But as she turned to the still angry mother, Ron stormed out of the office and growled loudly, "I'll just find her and tell me what the hell's going on!"

It all happened so fast – Molly chasing after Ron, claiming that she too needed to see Ginny, Arthur and Percy chasing after the two angry Weasleys, and George trotting off, chuckling along the way. Minerva realized a moment too late that she needed to contain the Weasley clan and prevent them from being set loose in the castle. She chased after them, walking as fast as her ageing legs could carry her.

Why must the Weasleys be full of temper and emotions? She was silently thanking the gods that Ginny would be the last Weasley to grace Hogwarts' halls for the next few years. She hoped that Fleur and Bill would take their time before starting to have children. The Headmistress wanted peace so badly.

* * *

The evening started well enough for Tristane. She was studying in the library with Blaise, who was surprisingly a good study partner. Hermione and Draco were off doing patrol, and Ginny presumably was with Daphne somewhere. Locking lips. Hugging. Cuddling. Doing things that Tristane would never get the chance to do with Ginny.

Tristane sighed.

When a pair of cute girls came around and started flirting with Blaise, Tristane knew that the studying was over. Blaise reverted back into his Blaise-boy mode, and ignored Tristane most of the time. The one-eyed witch knew the only reason why Blaise had not skipped town yet was because there was a present danger to Tristane and he would not leave her alone. She was arguing with Blaise, telling him it was okay and she could reach the dormitory safely, considering Mysterio was around, but he was adamant to complete his duty with excellent marks. At the same time, he was also persistent in his flirting. Tristane was really not in the mood to be witness to anything to do with love.

But of course, Ginny just had to appear at that moment, alone. Blaise took that advantage and unceremoniously dumped the responsibility of baby-sitting Tristane on a surprised Ginny, then took off immediately with the two cute girls. Tristane was highly tempted to throw a shoe to the back of his head, but resisted it. She had strong willpower.

Tristane found herself walking back to the Head's Quarters alone with Ginny in silence. It was awkward and uncomfortable.

"Thanks for walking me, I'm sorry to be bothering you," Tristane said softly. She kept her eyes straight ahead, not wanting to see Ginny. It hurt.

"It's my pleasure, Tristane. We haven't spent much time together lately anyway."

Why was Ginny sounding so sad? Was Tristane that bad of a company that Ginny could not be happy to even walk with her for a bit? Tristane felt hurt. Daphne must have really made Ginny happy, the one-eyed witch concluded. There was no way Tristane could ever compete. Plus, Daphne had two eyes. And could cast spells properly. And no unknown madmen trying to harm/kill her.

Tristane still looked ahead, thankful that Ginny was walking on her left, the side of her eye that was blind.

They were walking along a deserted corridor and heard noise in the distance. Tristane strained her ears and she swore it sounded like people arguing. Were there students fighting or something? The noise was coming nearer as well, toward them.

They exchanged glances but Tristane decided to went ahead. They turned a corner and faced a group of red-faced and equally red-haired group of people (except for McGonagall's hair colour, of course).

"Mom? Dad? Guys? What are you doing here?" Ginny was surprised.

Tristane looked at the group carefully, noting their similarities to Ginny. It seemed that the Gryffindor's whole family had red hair. Tristane wondered idly whether Fleur's children would have red hair as well, or inherit their mother's blonde.

Tristane was shocked when one of the red-haired man, presumably one of Ginny's many brothers, took a step toward her and pointed his wand at her menacingly, anger burning in his eyes. She recognized him as the guy she bumped into at the train station. What was going on?

"Ron, what the hell are you doing?" Ginny yelled at him, immediately placing herself between his wand and Tristane.

George and Percy grabbed at their brother, trying to drag him away.

"Lower your wand, you idiot," hissed George.

"No, I won't!" Ron yelled. "I demand an explanation. I want to know why my sister is kissing this filthy Slytherin. Have you forgotten how her fucking lunatic aunt nearly killed you before mum finished her off? Why did you kiss her, Gin? If it's just to get more info, why must you kiss her?"

"Ron," Ginny tried to warn him to shut up, but knew that Tristane heard him. She could feel the Slytherin went still behind her. Ginny cursed her luck.

"Ginevra, I never raised you to be like this," Molly stepped forward, struggling to get away from Arthur. "It's bad enough you let a perfect man like Harry go – yes, I found out about it so don't you dare to deny that. I thought it's just the circumstances, that maybe when you leave school you guys will get back together again like you should and get married a year or two later. Can't you see how good of a man he is? And now I found out about you kissing another girl. What is it that you want from us, Ginevra? Is this some cry for help? I have read somewhere that your behaviour is a cry for attention and that – "

"Mum!" Ginny cut her mother off before she could finish her rant. "Harry and I broke up mutually. He's like a brother to me. Plus, it's none of your business so I don't see why you're butting in. I am an adult and I have every right to kiss whoever I want without asking for your permission."

"Miss Weasley and Miss Black, please return to your dormitories," the Headmistress interjected loudly. "The rest of the Weasley clan, I need you to return to my office. You do not have my permission to roam the castle and are disrupting the school."

Molly and Ron protested.

Tristane did not hear what they said next, because Ginny dragged her away quicker than lightning.


	18. Chapter 18

_**Hi Skellyshook, autocorrect loves to make us write silly things. :p I'm glad you like the chapter and thank you for your review.**_

 _ **It's close to a thousand views and I want to thank everyone who are reading the story. I hope you guys enjoy it. :)**_

 ** _As always, JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter world._**

* * *

 **CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

Tristane was in a daze, not believing what she just heard. She stared at Ginny with empty eyes, letting herself being pulled along the hallways and corridors. Not long after, Tristane realised they had stopped in front of the Heads' Quarters.

"Was it true?" Tristane asked in a hoarse whisper.

Ginny, who was going to give the password to the waiting portrait, stopped. She turned to Tristane slowly, afraid to look at the one-eyed witch in the eye.

"Um what was true?" Ginny was hoping Tristane would just let it go. She dreaded this.

"Your brother. He said you befriended me because you're spying on me."

Ginny cringed. She swore she would hex Ron to oblivion the next time she sees him.

"I… well… it's not what you think, Tristane," Ginny began, but Tristane cut her off.

"Of course it's not what I think. Yeah, give me the same line every single person here has fed me. Draco, Blaise, Pansy, now you. Tell me what the fuck is really going on!" Tristane raised her voice, anger building inside her.

Ginny took a deep breath. This was definitely going down the drain. Thanks, Ron.

"The truth is, in the beginning, we were tasked to find information about you. You're the sole heir to the Black fortune and you suddenly appeared. Nobody knew you existed until the day you appeared. It was a surprise to everyone. We've just got out from a terrible war which was supported by most of the Blacks. You appearing out of the blue was highly suspicious. We were afraid that you might be some kind of trump card designed to bring destruction, to continue the war that we thought had ended. I never intended to befriend you to get information. I thought we would be doing the usual skulking about and spying on you and your cousin. But you were… you were different. You're this nice girl that's pretty much friendly and treat everyone as if non-Slytherins are human beings. I was definitely not expecting that. And then you started to get attacks and always get injured, and the more I spend time with you, the more I realised you are not evil. I may have other hidden intentions when we first got to know each other, but I am genuinely your friend."

Tristane was silent for a moment, taking it all in. She looked at the fidgeting Gryffindor, feeling hurt and sad. Betrayed.

"But the kiss was not genuine," Tristane said it as a statement, not a question.

Ginny looked up quickly, straight into Tristane's eye. There was an intensity in Ginny's eyes.

"I might have been drunk that night, but that kiss was genuine," Ginny was sure of that. That kiss had been haunting her dreams every night. She knew for certain that she wanted to experience it all over again if she could. But she might have just lost any chances tonight. Because Ron could not keep his fucking mouth shut. No, because Ginny was too much of a coward to tell Tristane how she felt inside.

Tristane gave Ginny a sad smile.

"I'll treasure that memory."

Tristane walked past Ginny and gave the password to the waiting portrait, who seemed disappointed that the drama was ending. Tristane disappeared behind the portrait and did not even spare Ginny a glance.

Ginny was rooted to the spot, staring at the empty spot where Tristane was moments ago. The Gryffindor stayed that way for quite some time until the portrait, tired of waiting, asked her, "Are you or are you not entering?"

Ginny shook her head and walked away.

* * *

Hermione went to the Great Hall for breakfast with Draco and Tristane. Tristane had been moody lately and spent so much time in Draco's room (Draco slept on the couch, giving Tristane free reign of his room), refusing to be social. Draco was worried and he suspected Blaise to hurt Tristane's heart, but Tristane's explanation of "that time of the month" and schoolwork-related stress seemed to calmed him. Hermione, however, was not fooled. Something else had happened, but the one-eyed witch refused to tell. Hermione suspected it had something to do with Ginny, as the redhead barely spent time with them for the past three weeks, and only made an appearance when Daphne made her to. Hermione had her hunch, but she kept quiet. Ginny claimed she was busy with Quidditch (even though the next Gryffindor's match would not be for another month) and spending time with Daphne. Hermione was worried for her best friend. She was certain that Ginny was unhappy with everything in her life at the moment, and Hermione hoped Daphne could cheer Ginny.

Hermione was trying to coax Tristane to eat more, and even threatening to tell Narcissa that her niece was barely eating. Tristane shot her a dark look but took another piece of toast. An grey owl swooped past, offering a leg to Hermione expectantly. Before she could take it, Draco was on it - he gave the owl treats, took the letter and murmured spells on it swiftly. When he was satisfied that it held no danger, he presented it to Hermione, who just rolled her eyes.

"Who's it from?" he put his head beside Hermione's, trying to read the letter.

Hermione pushed him away playfully.

"From my parents, you busybody. They're coming for a visit and I'm having lunch with them tomorrow," Hermione said happily. This was a nice surprise. "They said McGonagall helped arranged it for them."

"Lucky you, getting to go to Hogsmeade when it's not a Hogsmeade Weekend," Draco observed drily.

"Bringing your boyfriend to meet your parents?" Blaise teased.

"Why, do you want to come along?" Hermione teased back.

Hermione was happy. This would be the first time her parents visited her while she was at school. The letter did not indicate why they were coming, but whatever it was, Hermione was sure it would be good. Tomorrow would be one of the best Saturdays she ever had while in school.

Hermione opened the door to the Three Broomstick and entered quickly. It was freezing outside, and the snow was falling quite heavily. She was glad for the warmth. The establishment was not as full as it would be during Hogwarts Weekend. Hermione greeted Madam Rosmerta, who was cleaning up a table, and was informed her parents were awaiting her upstairs in one of the rooms strictly for private meetings. Hermione wondered why her parents required that much privacy and could not help but worry. Were they alright? Was anything wrong? The memory modification charms could not be affecting them negatively, could it?

Hermione entered the room and was hugged by her mother immediately. Her father seemed quite distant but was not cold with her. What was going on? Hermione suddenly was filled with dread. She did not want to overthink things, but could it be that her parents were divorcing? In the movies, that was usually the case: parents did something surprising in a very private setting, and bam! Signed divorce papers were shown.

Her mother suggested that they eat first before getting into the discussion, which increased Hermione's worry. How bad would this be? Did anyone in the family die? Have they adopted another child – wait, that would be good news, not bad news. Or maybe they have decided to adopt a puppy? Hermione stole a glance at her father and noticed he was rather tense. Alright, so no new sibling or pets. What could it be then?

Her mother ordered food for everybody, and started to make small talk. Hermione, while worried and curious, obliged. Her father chose to remain in silence, nodding and grunting occasionally when prodded by his wife.

"Mum, dad, what's going on? Has something happened?" Hermione asked once the last person to finish her food, her mother, set her cutlery down.

Her parents exchanged glances, and her father nodded gravely. Alright, this would definitely be bad.

Her mother took Hermione's hands and held them firmly in her own. Hermione glanced at her father, who looked away, looking more tense and rigid. Hermione looked back at her mother, whose expression was of hurt, sadness, anger, and worry.

"When we made the decision to allow you to enter a world we knew nothing about, a world where it would be only you going through it, it was… one of the most difficult decisions we made," her mother started, speaking softly. Hermione listened intently, trying to predict what her mother was trying to say. "We knew and we understood that you would be far from us, that we would not be able to see as often as we'd like, and we could not watch you grow up. One moment, you were our little child, all bright and happy. The next thing we knew, you saved the world from an evil monster. You have changed a lot, sweetie, and even though we are proud of the person you have become, we are sad because we could not be there with you every step of the way. It is for the best, I suppose."

Her mother took a deep breath, and her father rested a hand on her mother's shoulder, lending support. "We knew you were always a sensible child, guided by logic and not by emotions. We are thankful for that and that's why we trust you to –"

"Why are you sleeping around?" her father cut in. "Have you seen a counselor or psychiatrist or something similar to that in your world? I'm sure the war affected you badly and that the –"

"What do you mean I am sleeping around? What are you talking about, dad?" Hermione was shocked with the accusation.

Her father threw two photos on the table, gritting his teeth. Hermione went pale – one was of her and Draco dancing intimately, and another was Blaise carrying her when she passed out. As the photos were from the wizarding world, they moved, causing her parents to perceive that she had not been a good girl.

"Who sent you this?" Hermione could not keep her voice from shaking. She was angry and slightly terrified. There was no cameras allowed, so how and who took them? She must return to the Pirates and start hunting the rat down, assuming it was the work of one person. A thought filled her with dread. If her parents received some pictures, what about Ginny? At least Tristane was a Slytherin and therefore Narcissa would most probably not care about the parties.

"An anonymous sent us a letter," her mother answered, her voice breaking. "Why have you not come to us for help?"

"Did you take drugs as well?" her father asked. He could not keep fury out of his voice.

"Okay, stop. Just stop. This is a misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding," snorted her father. "Highly likely."

"Dad!" exclaimed Hermione. She turned to her mother. "Look, mum, I wasn't sleeping around with anyone. I have not slept with anyone! And even if I have, why should it matter as long as I know what I am doing? I'm an adult. But anyway, I was just dancing with Draco. And that boy, Blaise, was carrying me to the dorm when I passed out. Alright, I'm sorry I drank too much, but Blaise did not do anything to me. He's a good friend. He carried all of us back to the dorm and took care of us. Nothing happened there. And no, I did not take any drugs."

Hermione extricated her hands from her mother's and folded her arms. She was furious but kept her temper in check.

"I've never lied to you. Alright, I did modify your memories but that was to protect you from the war, which was a totally different thing."

"Draco… was he not the bully you hated?" her father looked confused.

Hermione sighed. Damnit Draco!

"He used to be a git," she said slowly, "but he has changed. His mother played a crucial role that enabled Harry to win us to war, dad. Draco is still a git sometimes, but not to me. He's kind, a gentleman, studious, a little bit overprotective, quite smart, funny, annoying, helpful… Overall, a decent person."

Her mother studied her.

"Is he cute?" her mother asked, her voice neutral.

Without thinking, Hermione nodded. "His eyes always have this peculiar emotion in them, mum. A mixture of, oh I don't know, serenity, sadness, anger, but at the same time happiness?"

Her parents exchanged glances.

"How long have you guys been dating?" her father asked.

Hermione was exasperated. "What? No, we're not dating. Why do people keep on saying that?"

Her mother groaned. "You're just like your father," she mumbled.

"I'd like to meet him. Can you bring him here?" her father asked.

"Now?" Hermione was incredulous.

Her parents nodded.

Wait, they were being serious. What the heck. Hermione wanted to reject their request (well, sounded like a demand) and explain that it was not a Hogsmeade Weekend and therefore students were not allowed to roam around the village without permission and thus Draco could not come. But she noticed fear and worry in her parents' eyes. Hermione realized that they were just concerned for their only child's well-being, and that they knew they were powerless to protect Hermione from anything related to magic. Hermione did not have the heart to give them cause for more worries.

She sighed. It would be a freezing trip just to drag an annoying Head Boy.

Hermione sent a Patronus to McGonagall, explaining the situation quickly, and asking permission for Draco to come meet her parents. She was surprised McGonagall allowed it and informed her that Mr. Malfoy was on his way. Hermione thought only Albus Dumbledore would do weird and random things. Or perhaps, being a Headmaster or Headmistress of Hogwarts tend to make people take weird decisions. But whatever it was, Hermione was thankful that Draco was coming.

The three of them waited in silence. It felt awkward for Hermione, so she turned her mind to the mystery before her: who sent the photos?

Time seemed to go on forever, expanded by the awkwardness of the silence. Hermione's father stared into his cup of tea pensively while her mother looked out the window, gazing at the falling snow, coupled with a howling wind. A knock on the door startled the three of them. Seconds later, a lanky, disheveled blond entered.

"I'm sorry if I kept you waiting, the wind was murderous," Draco bowed apologetically in their general direction.

Charming.

He walked across the room and offered his hand to Hermione's father.

"It's an honour to finally meet you, Mr. Granger. I'm Draco, Hermione's classmate," Draco kept his voice as smooth as possible, flicking a glance at Hermione. He seemed to understand her mood immediately.

Hermione's father stared at the proffered hand for a moment before standing up and shook it roughly. Draco turned to Hermione's mother and introduced himself, curtsying. If it was not for the serious atmosphere, Hermione would be laughing at Draco's antics.

"Hermione, we'd like to speak with him alone," Hermione's father gazed at her, gesturing with his head that she should leave the room.

"Dad, what's this? An interrogation? He has done nothing wrong. We have done nothing wrong," Hermione protested. There was no way she would leave the room. Draco might be acting polite, but she knew his upbringing might lead into an altercation between him and her parents. She had no idea whether Draco was disgusted he actually shook hands with her parents who were ordinary Muggles.

"Hermione, please, we'd like to have a private moment with your boyfriend," her mother pleaded softly, shushing her father who was on the verge of snapping.

"We're not dating, if anyone bothers to listen," groaned Hermione.

Draco reached a hand out to Hermione, squeezing her arm.

"I'll be alright," he said softly, eyes full of encouragement. "Don't worry."

Hermione sighed. Reluctantly, she went out of the room.

"Wait, take his wand with you," her father demanded.

Hermione paused at the door and looked at her father in horror.

"You can't do that to a wizard, dad!"

"Hermione, we can't protect ourselves against magic, as you very well know," her father said drily. "But I can defend myself against physical fights. How can I be sure that he will not put a spell on me to make me agreeable? He's part of those evil guys who wanted to kill you, isn't he?" Draco gritted his teeth at that, but managed to keep his face impassive. "If my own daughter could raise her wand against me, what more a stranger?"

Hermione forced herself to hold her tears. She would not cry. Her father's words stung at her. Why could he not understand that she did it to protect them?

Draco stood in front of Hermione, holding out his wand to her. He smiled gently at her.

"Just don't break it, alright?"

Hermione nodded. She wished her father could see that Draco had changed – he was not a bully to her anymore. He was just annoying at times.

Hermione took the wand and closed the door. She took a deep breath, trying to decide where to wait. She was not in the mood to sit downstairs with the rest of the patrons. She wanted to be alone. But roaming the village alone in this weather was not wise. Hermione decided to just wait in the corner of the hallway and stared out the window contemplatively.

Why did people not care whenever she said that they were not dating? Even her parents refused to listen to her. Aside from modifying their memories, what other crimes had she committed against them? Nothing. Yet, they preferred to draw conclusions without bothering to listen to what she had to say.

True, they did kiss. But kissing a person never constitutes dating that person. She blushed involuntarily, recalling memories of them kissing. Not once, but many times. After the party, they had shared kisses several times, usually when they were on patrol together or on their way back from the library. It just happened – they were chatting about the usual inane stuff, and suddenly they were kissing. It was not her fault that he was undeniably attractive, in his own annoying ways. It was also not her fault that he was good at what he did, knowing exactly what she needed, and was always courteous, if that made sense. He was never rough nor was he slobbery. It was a totally different experience than with Ron and even Viktor. Draco was always mindful of her, and she liked it.

But they never discussed about what those kisses meant. He never brought up the subject, and she herself was unwilling to mention it. They would just kiss, and once they were done, they would resume their original conversation as if nothing else happened. Both of them seemed to be happy with the arrangement, so why breach a topic that might change things for the worse?

She and Draco, dating. No, Hermione did not think she was ready for that. Despite his current behaviour toward her, years of hatred toward that boy and his goons could not disappear in just a blink of an eye. Nor could she forget his cowardice at Malfoy Manor, where he stood by and did nothing to protect her from his crazy, cruel aunt. Hermione still bore the scars from that night, which constantly reminded her to be careful with Draco. Even if Draco had genuinely changed, what of his upbringing and family traditions? He was a pureblood from a line of conservative traditionalists with views that were not favourable at all to her. Could both Lucius and Narcissa allow their only child to date a Muggleborn? They were so close to Voldemort, there was no way they could change their minds easily about non-purebloods. For all Hermione knew, they would poison her while she slept to free Draco from her.

No, the current arrangement was the best option. There was some tension, and she could feel it whenever she was with Draco, but Hermione was certain it was the safest. As long as none of them talk about their relationship, things should be fine. Or so she hoped.

Hermione did not hear the door opened and jumped when Draco whispered in her ear, "If you're waiting to witness my ghost blown by the wind, I think I've disappointed you."

"You're alive!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Your father decided not to kill me yet."

Behind him, her parents slowly approached them. Hermione noticed they were calmer and were smiling at her tentatively.

"I'm happy to see you both," Hermione detected warmth in her father's voice. Has his anger dissipated?

Hermione's mother pulled her closer and hugged her tightly.

"I'm sorry we gave you a hard time, we were just worried about you," her mother whispered in her ear.

"That's alright, mum, I understand."

Her mother released her and her father pulled her to a hug.

"If your boyfriend is giving you a hard time, don't hesitate to call me," he said.

"Dad, we're not… oh whatever. Fine, I will," Hermione promised.

They said their goodbyes and the two students left for Hogwarts. Hermione was thankful that she learnt a lot of spells during the war to protect her, Harry, and Ron from the weather. It was useful for this situation.

Hermione and Draco reached the castle safely, albeit nearly frozen to death, but the warmth offered by the fireplace in the Heads' Quarters took care of the cold. Draco went to check on Tristane, but, seeing his cousin was not in the vicinity, shrugged and sat next to Hermione in front of the fireplace.

"Where's Tristane?" Hermione asked, hands outstretched to the warmth.

"I'm not sure, but she should be alright. She knows not to be alone in the castle."

They enjoyed the warmth in silence, with only the sound of the fire burning punctuating the peace. Hermione was exhausted both emotionally and physically. She leaned against the foot of the sofa and rested her head on Draco's shoulder. She closed her eyes.

"Draco," she said softly, "how do we recognize someone who's cursed with madness by Salazar if he or she spills secrets of the parties?"

Draco furrowed his eyebrows, thinking hard.

"I don't really know," he admitted. "I mean, come to think about it, madness is pretty ambiguous. Everyone can be considered mad in their own ways. But could it be that the person would suddenly behave crazily? Why are you asking?"

"Did my parents show you the pictures?"

Draco shook his head, and then realized Hermione's eyes were closed.

"No, they did not. What pictures are you talking about?"

Hermione sighed.

"Someone sent a couple of pictures of what happened at the party. We were dancing, and Blaise dragging me to bed when I passed out. Hence the talk with my parents. I have a feeling there are more pictures taken and they have something to do with Tristane and Ginny's weirdness."

"No way!" he exclaimed. "There's no bloody way that could happen. No cameras were allowed, remember?"

"But there were pictures, Draco, so someone somehow must have taken them," she said impatiently.

Draco seethed in anger.

"I have a hunch whoever is trying to kill Tristane is behind this," Hermione speculated. "Maybe they are trying to draw her away from us, so that she will be alone and vulnerable."

Draco kissed the top of Hermione's forehead.

"I need to go and check this out, Hermione," Draco gently lifted her head up. "I will find the bloody student that is in cahoots with those murderers. Just rest, I'll be back soon."

Hermione nodded. She wanted to go with him but she was so exhausted. She took his suggestion and dozed off immediately on the rug, in front of the warm fireplace. Hermione was barely aware of Draco covering her with a blanket.

* * *

Since the new Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, took over, Dementors were banished from Azkaban. In their place, wizards and witches took over as prison guards. They were overseen by the Aurors. Since then, there were fewer screams heard in Azkaban, with nobody's minds and emotions attacked by the foul creatures.

Lucius Malfoy scoffed at the change.

True, he was fortunate that he did not have to suffer mentally and did not risk ending up like his late sister in law, but all the same, he failed to see how firing the Dementors would be beneficial for the wizarding community. People did not fear Azkaban as much as before. Crimes would multiply, and before the Ministry knew it, the society would be destroyed. At least his master understood that to rule, one needed an iron feast. Fear ruled the world. Fear was a necessity to shape the world into a much better place.

Lucius inched his way to the front of the line and took his allocated food onto his tray. He carried it and walked as regally as he could to the corner of what the prisoners called 'food room'. Nobody seemed to be eager to sit with him, and he could not blame them for that. He knew that people thought he had no loyalty except to himself. He publicly betrayed his lord when Voldemort disappeared all those years ago, and when the Dark Lord suddenly appeared again, Lucius stood behind his master. Then, just months ago, Harry Potter made a statement that the Malfoys were instrumental in the fall of the Dark Lord. The remaining Death Eaters that had not been sentenced yet hated him, and the ordinary criminals were disgusted with him. Lucius were put under strict surveillance for his own safety.

He was glad that he was safe, but at times, it could get lonely.

Narcissa and Draco only visited him once, the week after his imprisonment. Lucius had then ordered them not to come and visit him again for quite some time, to give the public the impression that Lucius had forced his family to serve the Dark Lord. He loathed the thought of his family being linked to the light side, but one had to do what one had to do to survive. Since then, he had only traded letters with his wife. He forbade his son from writing to him – Draco was still in school, and it would not do for his son's future to appear being very close to his Death Eater father. That would endanger the existence of the Malfoy household. No matter what happened, Lucius must ensure that the Malfoy lineage survived.

Lucius was frustrated with the lack of news from the outside world – Azkaban inmates were not allowed newspapers and their letters were checked. Any letter found containing news of the outside world, aside from anything that immediately concerned them (such as the death of one's family or trivial family gossips), would be destroyed immediately. Visitors were also forbidden to relay news that did not concern the inmates. He was not even allowed information on the running of his business, as his empire was related to many world events. Lucius hoped that the board, along with his son, could manage the empire without him. In times like this, money was crucial. He was certain nobody would offer aid to Narcissa or Draco. But with money, aid could be bought.

Lucius wondered on the status of his niece. Tristane Black was an anomaly nobody foresaw, and it was a pleasant one. The Black household was in danger of being extinct, and after Sirius Black gave everything to that Potter boy, Lucius was sure that the Black family would gaze at the sun no more. But when Tristane appeared, and Cygnus' hidden will disclosed, most of the inheritance reverted back to Tristane. For some reason, his niece declined to take Grimmauld Place back.

Lucius was eating the beans when he realized that the large room was empty. Empty and eerily silent. He looked up and felt a cold tip pressed softly to his back.

"Don't move," a rough voice ordered in a low tone.

Lucius silently cursed his 'bodyguards'. Where were the guards? Was he not supposed to be under tight surveillance?

"What do you want?" Lucius managed to keep his voice indifferent, cold.

The unknown stranger chuckled.

"You're such an embarrassment to us, Lucius," the rough voice said silkily. "We used to admire your wit and brilliance, but it seemed that age has taken a toll on you, especially with your recent performances under our late lord. You betrayed him _again_ , Lucius. You betrayed us. You, who had such a high standing in our lord's inner circle. Not only that, you are now betraying your own forefathers, just to save your reputation in the wizarding world. How shameless of you."

"What are you talking about?" Lucius demanded.

The tip of the blade was pressed further. Lucius winced, feeling his skin breaking.

"Such a shame, for a pureblooded Malfoy, to stoop so low to ask for a Mudblood's help. If Bellatrix was still alive, she'd tear both her eyeballs out before she must witness such atrocities. What did you think you were doing, ordering your son to be _romantically involved_ with the Granger Mudblood? You're really scum, Lucius. Do you honestly believe marrying your son off to that Mudblood would save the Malfoys' reputation?"

Lucius wanted to protest but no sound could come out of his mouth. There was no way his son, a Malfoy, would consort with a mudblood. What kind of rumours were spreading now? This was an insult, a huge mind-boggling lie! He also found himself to be frozen in place. He panicked.

"You taught me money is useful, and you're right," the man whispered into Lucius' ear. "These poor guards are so underpaid they did not blink an eye when I offered them three hundred Galleons each. _Three hundred_. What a pathetic bunch of Ministry employees, don't you agree?"

Lucius could feel the blade slowly entered his back. He wanted to scream, to cry for help, but he could not. He was fully Petrified.

"If you can't keep that pathetic son of yours in line, you might as well die, old buddy. I'll make sure he will come to his senses and find a better candidate for a wife."

Lucius slumped to the floor, a pool of blood slowly forming under him. He desperately tried to move his body. He needed to warn Narcissa and Draco. He needed to return home. He must stop this slander of a mudblood tainting his family name. He screamed internally, forcing his will to override whatever magic that was placed on him.

But he failed.

Lucius Malfoy died, moments later, when the man _Avada Kedavra-d_ the injured man.


	19. Chapter 19

**_Hi Skellyshook, thank you for reviewing, as always. I'm glad you like the chapter._**

 ** _It's going to be a long weekend here and I hope I can finish another chapter before Monday ends. Yay to days of rain and me too lazy to go out anywhere._**

 ** _I hope you guys are still enjoying the story and do forgive me for my mistakes._**

 ** _JK Rowling owns Harry Potter._**

* * *

 **CHAPTER NINETEEN**

The news came to a shock to Hermione as much as it would be shocking to Draco. When the owl bearing the grave news left, Draco walked out of the Great Hall without touching his breakfast. Hermione had no idea what to do – should she give him some time alone or should she accompany him? Blaise had advised her quietly to let the blond be until at least nightfall, as Draco was not one who could freely deal with his emotions in front of others. Tristane, on the other hand, announced softly that she was not feeling well and would go to the infirmary. Hermione had offered to accompany the Slytherin, which was accepted graciously. It was strange to be the one accompanying Tristane to places instead of Ginny. That redhead, as usual, was absent, along with Daphne. Hermione sighed. She would need to talk to Ginny sooner or later, before things worsen.

Madam Pomfrey seemed to have known the news beforehand and told Tristane to climb a bed and rest in the hospital wing, and the Slytherin obeyed. Hermione sat beside Tristane and a sudden thought crossed her mind: Hermione was doomed to a life of being a frequent visitor to the hospital. Should she consider a career in the healing sector? Considering her friends tended to have a lifestyle of dangers and risks that would be a wise move.

"It's my fault again, isn't it?" Tristane asked nobody in particular.

Hermione tilted her head to the side, observing the Slytherin. Tristane's face showed no emotion.

"If only I never appear, then nobody would get hurt because none of these would happen," Tristane continued emotionlessly. "You would have a peaceful school year, Ginny wouldn't be fighting with her family, and Draco would not have lost a father. It's my fault."

Hermione's eyebrows rose. Ginny fought with the Weasleys? When was this?

"You did not do any of those, Tristane," Hermione said carefully. "It's the people who want to hurt you that did this. Besides, we don't know why Lucius was murdered. Many people hated him, after all."

Tristane was quiet and turned her face away from Hermione.

"I'd like to be alone."

Hermione did not move. Leaving Tristane alone would be dangerous.

"Please."

Hermione sighed.

"Alright, but don't sneak out anywhere," the Head Girl agreed reluctantly. "I'm sure Mysterio is somewhere nearby, but if you need anything, don't hesitate to call for help, alright?"

Tristane nodded slowly.

Hermione walked out of the hospital wing and decided to search for Ginny. There was just too much drama going on and with Lucius' death Hermione was convinced they could not let things progress slowly. Hermione took out the Marauder's Map and searched for Ginny's name. Harry had lent it to her when she requested, sending it via owl a couple of days ago. The map was a great asset in locating people and Hermione felt it would help in preventing Tristane from getting into another 'accident'.

Hermione was expecting Ginny to be in the Quidditch pit or in the Slytherin dorm with Daphne, but the single dot located at a secluded spot of the lake showed otherwise. What was the redhead doing there in the cold snow? Hermione cleared the map and hurried to where Ginny was.

The redhead was staring into the cold lake (how the lake could not get frozen was beyond Hermione), looking sad. When Hermione got close enough, she noticed Ginny's puffy eyes. Had the redhead been crying?

"Hello, stranger," Hermione greeted softly, sitting next to Ginny.

The redhead just nodded.

"Lucius was found dead last night, murdered."

Ginny looked at Hermione in disbelief.

"Nobody knew who did it, investigation is still going on. An owl came for Draco and Tristane during breakfast."

At the mention of Tristane's name, Ginny returned her gaze to the lake. Hermione sighed but said nothing. The Head Girl silently cast a warming charm on the both of them.

"When are they going for the funeral?" Ginny finally asked after a long silence.

"Death Eaters do not get returned to their families, Gin, remember? Narcissa is going to Azkaban today, I think. Draco and Tristane do not get clearance for that, especially with people going after Tristane's head."

Ginny nodded.

"Why are you not at Tristane's side? You've been avoiding her for the past few weeks."

Ginny turned her head away from Hermione.

"I've been busy with Quidditch and studies. It's NEWTS year, 'Mione."

Hermione rolled her eyes. She would not play this game with Ginny.

"Gin," Hermione tugged at Ginny's arm, forcing the redhead to look at her, "what happened between you and Tristane?"

"Nothing happened, 'Mione. I'm fine," Ginny said stubbornly, shrugging Hermione's hand off.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at her best friend.

"Self-pity would do you no good, missy," the Head Girl stated drily.

Ginny closed her eyes, resting her head between her hands.

"I don't know why you're drowning yourself in this… negative emotion of yours," Hermione said exasperatedly. "Fine, don't tell me what's going on with your life. Don't even get interested in what's going on in my life, Gin. I thought my best friend would allow me to help her in her times of need, but apparently not. I don't think you deserve to help me in return."

Hermione stood and stomped away.

"Wait, Hermione! Please!" Ginny called out, panicking.

Hermione stopped in her tracks, and turned her head.

"What is it?"

"Come back, please. Sit here next to me." When the Head Girl stood motionlessly, Ginny added, "I'm sorry I've been a prat. I'll tell you what's going on. Please don't leave me."

Hermione returned to her previous spot and renewed the charms. She stared at Ginny expectantly.

"I'm in a mess, 'Mione. I don't know what to do. Everything is just wrong and confusing and I just want to hide till school is over."

Hermione raised her hand and rested her fingers gently on the back of Ginny's neck, rubbing it, trying to calm the redhead.

"Tell me, Gin," Hermione encouraged softly.

Ginny closed her eyes.

"I slept with Daphne right after the party," she whispered.

Hermione struggled to contain her surprise. While she knew both witches were dating each other, it did not occur to Hermione that they had slept with each other. After all, they never seemed to exude obvious chemistry before they started to get together.

"I was so drunk. We were both so drunk," the redhead continued. "It was a mistake. I… I think Tristane saw us making out and disappearing away. I don't really remember. But I do remember her eye looking at me, sad and betrayed. I feel so shitty, 'Mione."

"So why are you dating Daphne then?" Hermione was confused.

"I don't know, it was… I don't know. I mean, she's a decent person and not as evil as the rumours go. But then most of the Slytherins have been decent to us this year so I don't know. I thought I was doing the right thing. I mean, we never… It was uh… our first time."

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes badly.

"Gin," the Head Girl said slowly, "while what you did was commendable, none of you were pregnant. Unlike most people who decided to get together because of pregnancy, you do not have that issue. Yes you are a Gryffindor and we Gryffindors strive to always be noble, but why are you torturing yourself like this? Can't you see you are unhappy with the situation? And does Daphne know?"

"I did tell her I'd like to try with her because of that and – "

"No Gin, about Tristane," Hermione cut her off.

Ginny shook her head. Hermione sighed at that.

"Gin, please, I'm trying to understand this. You have no feelings for Daphne, correct?"

Ginny nodded.

"From the way you're acting up, you obviously have feelings for Tristane, correct?"

Ginny nodded slowly.

"But you decided to date Daphne instead of pursuing Tristane, correct?"

Ginny nodded miserably.

"Gin, you will make everybody miserable. I'm pretty sure Tristane is drowning in her own sorrows as well, from the way she's been behaving lately. But why do you want to hurt Daphne as well?"

Ginny had no answer to that.

"You have to talk to them, Gin," Hermione said firmly. "You need to talk to Daphne about it, at least. She has the right to know the truth."

Ginny nodded miserably.

"Yeah, I will, 'Mione," the redhead sighed. "Aren't you going to get mad at me for dating girls?"

Hermione was surprised.

"Why should I?"

Ginny looked at Hermione, searching for something.

"You don't mind?"

Hermione shook her head.

"I knew Ron was daft but I never expected you to share his daftness," Hermione tried to joke. "No, Gin, I don't care. All I care is that you are with someone you like, and that someone makes you happy. Life's too short to be bothered about the small details. Look, I know Daphne is a decent person, but you're obviously unhappy about the whole situation. I'm also affected indirectly, you know."

Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"You make Tristane unhappy, which drives Draco crazy, which in turn drives me crazy," Hermione explained. "Plus you kept on disappearing all the time, so I'm stuck with the two of them alone."

Ginny cringed.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione," she apologised. "I will sort this out soon."

"You better do," Hermione warned. "Oh, I nearly forgot – I heard that you fought with the Weasleys? What happened?"

Ginny's face was clouded again. She gazed at the horizon and sighed. She told Hermione about the incident. Hermoine was not surprised. She was half expecting it after the incident with her parents. She told Ginny about the photos her parents brought and her suspicion that the whole thing was orchestrated to draw Tristane away from everyone.

"She's feeling guilty at the moment," Hermione informed Ginny. "She's at the hospital wing, convinced that she's the cause of Lucius' death."

Ginny's face was conflicted. She gritted her teeth.

"I… can't talk to her at the moment," the redhead confessed. "My emotions are jumbled up. But I'll go and talk to Daphne right away. You're right, 'Mione, I'm being unfair to her. Thanks for kicking my arse back on the right path."

"You're more than welcome, Gin-dork," Hermione said fondly.

They walked side by side back to the castle. Inside, they went their separate ways: Hermione returned to the infirmary while Ginny went in search of Daphne. Hermione hoped that Ginny would come out unscathed.

Daphne was, in fact, in her room. She was having a free period and decided to use that time wisely to relax. Initially she wanted to spend some time with Ginny but she could not find the Gryffindor. Daphne had given up and decided that maybe it was a good time to spoil herself.

Just as she was starting to doze off, the door creaked open.

"Daph?"

Daphne opened her eyes and smiled happily. She beckoned the Gryffindor to come closer.

"I was looking for you everywhere, Gin. Where have you been?"

Ginny shrugged.

"Oh, you know, Quidditch," she answered evasively.

Ginny sat at the edge of Daphne's bed.

"Come, cuddle me," Daphne made space on her bed.

Ginny felt guilty. She took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, Daph, but uh, we need to talk. I need to talk with you about something."

Daphne sat up slowly and gave Ginny a sad smile.

"You don't have to say anything, Ginny, I knew this was coming," the Slytherin said softly. Ginny looked surprised. "I overheard you and Tristane the other day," Daphne admitted. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop – I was looking for you. You've been nice to me and everything, but I know you're not really happy with me. Don't deny it, I'm not blind."

Ginny hung her head. She felt terrible.

Daphne reached out a hand and touched Ginny's arm.

"Please don't feel guilty if for the next few weeks or so I don't want to see you. It still hurts, unfortunately. But do talk to Tristane, don't keep her sad any longer, alright?"

Ginny nodded. She had no idea what to say. Why was Daphne being so nice to her?

"Please leave, Gin," Daphne was on the verge of crying. "I'd like to be alone."

Ginny squeezed Daphne's hand once and walked out. She felt so guilty but at the same time she was relieved.

"I hope Slytherin wins the Quidditch Cup, Gin," Daphne called out.

Ginny smiled.

"I'll make sure it doesn't happen, Daphne," the redhead replied.

Ginny wandered the hallways and corridors, wondering what to do. Should she approach Tristane? What would she say? Could she even handle seeing Tristane? Ginny definitely was not in the mood to attend any class. Ginny felt that she was not ready to see Tristane, afraid that Tristane would reject her presence.

 _You're a fucking Gryffindor, Ginny_ , she scolded herself _, act like one_.

But the Gryffindor bravery was not in her when she needed it most. Ginny decided to go up the Astronomy Tower to clear her mind.

Tristane could wait.

* * *

Hermione was doing her homework alone in the Heads' Quarters when Draco barged in the room. He looked disheveled and out of place. He was also dripping wet.

"Draco? Why are you wet?"

Draco walked into his room and mumbled, "Weather's nice for a swim."

Hermione shook her head in concern. Lucius may seem to be an uncaring and cold father but his death still affected Draco badly.

"I have spoken to all sponsors and they've checked that all who were invited are still sane," Draco spoke in a level tone, as if his day was like any other. He was sitting beside Hermione, all dry and in warm clothing.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Hermione said softly, holding his hand.

Draco nodded and gritted his teeth. He was trying not to cry.

"Did you know that the only reason why I was born was because my father needed a male heir? He never liked children. At least my mother is lucky – he was madly in love with her at one point. Until the Dark Lord appeared, of course. Then my father changed, focusing only on power and wealth to bring more glory to the Malfoy name."

Hermione squeezed his hand, letting him know she was paying attention.

"I've always thought I would never be affected when he dies. I'm wrong, it seems," he laughed hollowly. "I don't love him, but I'm too young to lose a father. If he'd gotten the Dementor's Kiss or sentenced to death for his crimes, I can accept it. But he died for reasons that nobody knows. The fucking murderer did not bother to leave any clue."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Thanks, Hermione," Draco gave Hermione a quick kiss on her temple. "I feel much better now. On the bright side, I can now be who I am."

"I'm here for you, Draco," Hermione gave him an understanding smile.

"It still sucks though, not being able to attend the funeral," he sighed. "But no matter. Grieving time's over. So, have you seen Tristane?"

Hermione stared at him in disbelief. But if he did not want to discuss the matter, then she would not bring it up.

"She was still in the infirmary when I visited her an hour ago. She wants to be alone. I think she blames herself for Lucius' death."

Draco was surprised.

"What? Why?"

"She's just feeling guilty for everything that's happening, I guess," Hermione shrugged. "Just give her some time to mope around, she'll be alright."

Draco was not looking convinced.

"Come on, Draco, don't create another drama."

Draco sighed and nodded reluctantly.

"So, you were saying just now that nobody seemed to have madness? No signs of being cursed?"

Draco shook his head.

"No, and that's what's worrying me," he frowned. "There was no camera around and everyone seems normal."

"Could it be Skeeter?" Hermione hesitated.

"No way," he scoffed. "To enter, one must swear the oath, including Animagus."

Hermione pondered this for a moment.

"Are there any other ways to take pictures without needing cameras?"

Draco shrugged.

"Invisible cameras, maybe?"

Hermione shot him an annoyed look.

"Invisible or not, it's still a camera, Draco. Oh hey – I have an idea! Let's try to investigate who in the party that might have any affiliation to Skeeter or hates the Black family."

Draco stared at her.

"You're proposing an impossible task, Hermione. There's no way anyone that got invitation would declare hatred on the Blacks or have good relationship with Skeeter."

"But it's worth a try," argued Hermione.

Draco could not deny that. Any line of possibility was worth a try.

"So, snooping around?"

Hermione grinned and nodded. Draco understood it.

* * *

Tristane wandered aimlessly amongst the rows of pots and exotic plants. She knew she should not be here due to the dangers the room posed and her inability to recognize the plants, but she did not care. Green Room No. 5 was peaceful and tranquil, unlike the rest of the school. Nobody was allowed access except the most advanced students, as the room held the most dangerous plants in the school. Even those allowed had to report first before entering and must not be alone at any time.

Tristane heard ruffles and grunting from the far corner of the room. Instantly, she was on alert. She had come to be alone and gather her thoughts, knowing the room should be empty at this time of the day. But apparently not. Tristane approached the origin of the noises and spotted the backside of a boy hunched over a medium-sized pot, messing around with the plant the pot held. He looked like messing around because Tristane had no idea what he was doing.

"Uh, do you need help?" against her better judgment, Tristane made her presence known.

The boy, startled, turned around and faced her.

"Oh hi, didn't see you there," a sweaty and grimy Neville greeted her. He was holding a pair of scissors with one hand and gripped the plant tightly with another.

Tristane relaxed slightly. Neville was never mean to her and seemed to be alright, judging by Draco's politeness to the boy. Neville was also the one defending Hermione in front of the whole school. She heard he killed the bad guy's big snake. Pretty cool guy.

"What are you doing?" she took a few steps closer, but maintaining distance in case whatever Neville was doing turned into a disaster. The boy was accident-prone and she did not want to get injured unnecessarily. Attempts on her life were more than enough troubles, thank you.

"Just helping Professor Sprout trimming these beauties," Neville returned to continue his task. It was common secret that Professor Sprout trusted Neville very much to handle any green room on his own. Herbology was the only subject the boy excelled, even better than Hermione. He was a god with plants. Only plants.

"Would you like some help?" Tristane knew she was clueless with plants except to chop them up, but felt it was the polite thing to do.

"Nah, I'm nearly done." Perhaps Neville knew her ignorance in the subject? "What brings you down here? I mean, I don't mean to pry but I've never seen you around and you don't have any projects involving Green Room No. 5."

Tristane took a seat at an empty stool nearby and watched Neville worked. There was no trace of clumsiness that the boy always carried around.

"I need to clear my mind, I guess," she mumbled.

"You can talk to me if you'd like. No promises that I am able to help though," he tried to joke.

Tristane smiled appreciatively. Neville was such a nice guy. She wondered why he was in Gryffindor instead of Hufflepuff. Gryffindors were rough and brash, unlike Neville. Oh well. The Hat Sorted her to Slytherin for some reason, even though she was pretty sure she was not cunning, sly, or even ambitious like the rest of her housemates. The world was full of mystery.

"Have you ever liked someone so much but did not realize it until the person is with someone else?" Tristane asked quietly.

Neville glanced at her. "Well, no. I mean, yeah I have liked a few girls but I realized it from the start."

"What did you do?"

Neville shrugged. "I never said a thing. I'm not what girls would like. I'm fat, I'm clumsy, I'm not smart, I'm not brave either. I can't play Quidditch."

"Standing up for your friends in front of the whole school requires bravery, Nev," she observed. Neville had a tinge of pink on his cheeks. Tristane guessed he was not used to compliments.

"So who's the guy? It can't be Malfoy 'cause he's your cousin."

"Uh, well, it's not a guy exactly," Tristane hesitated. Was it acceptable in the wizarding world for girls to like girls?

Neville looked at her again, with curiousity. Then his eyes suddenly showed understanding.

"Ginny?"

Tristane was shocked. She looked around to ensure nobody else was around to hear this conversation before turning back to Neville.

"Am I that obvious?"

Neville smiled kindly.

"I observe people, Tristane. People tend to see what they want to see, so I don't think it's obvious to them. So what happened?"

Tristane fidgeted.

"She's not with me, obviously, or else we wouldn't be having this conversation. She's with someone else who's luckier than me. I'm not sure what to do."

Neville finished trimming the plant and grabbed another stool to sit in front of Tristane.

"I'm not the best person to go to with relationship problems, but since you trusted me enough to tell me your problem, I will do my best to help. I have several questions though. Do you want her?"

"Of course," Tristane answered in a heartbeat. That was a stupid question. Why would you like someone a lot and not want the person?

"Would you pursue her?"

"If I am given the chance, yes."

"Have you told her?"

Tristane was not sure how to answer. She never told Ginny explicitly how much she liked the Gryffindor, but she was pretty sure Ginny would have known by now.

"Well, I've never told her."

"But she's with someone else at the moment, right?"

Tristane confirmed it sadly.

"I think that you need to talk to her, Tristane," Neville said earnestly. "Even if you do get rejected because well, she's with someone else, but at least you yourself have a closure and you can heal properly to move on."

Tristane tilted her head to one side.

"You're wiser than you let on, Nev," she observed.

Neville was surprised to be given a quick hug.

"Thanks for listening to me."

"Anytime, Tristane. I'm sorry I can't help much."

Tristane rose from her stool.

"You've helped a lot. I'll see you around."

Tristane felt the weight in her heart lifted a little. Neville was right. She must talk to Ginny as soon as possible and clear the air. The worst that could happen was to be rejected, not to be murdered. She decided to return to the Heads' Quarters – there was no way she would be returning to her dormitory. Daphne was still there. As much as Tristane did not blame the blonde, Tristane still felt hurt.

* * *

Tristane took her third piece of toast, earning her surprised looks from Hermione, Draco, Pansy, and Blaise. Tristane could not blame them – she barely ate anything lately and required multiple threats as well as coaxing to eat anything at all. Seeing her eating anything willingly would give a shock to anyone who had been observing her.

But that shock was not comparable to when Ginny decided to appear and sit at the Slytherin table between Pansy and Blaise. Daphne was not around, which was strange.

"Uh… are you sure you're not lost, missy?" Pansy stared at the redhead who was piling up her plate with food.

"Where there's food, there's me," Ginny said in a sage tone.

Tristane felt the corners of her mouth curled upward involuntarily. She could not stop herself from wanting to laugh at the comment. Tristane felt Hermione staring at her. That was not a good sign. Did the Head Girl suspect anything? Tristane kept her eye down to her plate, appearing to focus on her toast.

"McGonagall's asking around who's staying back for Christmas," Blaise said conversationally, trying to break the suddenly awkward atmosphere. "Anybody's staying?"

"I am," Ginny answered glumly. That got everybody's attention.

"Er what? Why? That's unexpected. Don't you Weasleys have your huge family gathering during Christmas?" Blaise asked.

Tristane felt terrible. She had a hunch that she was the cause of it.

"Just a disagreement with my family about something," Ginny mumbled. "Oh well, at least I get to have the Quidditch pitch all for myself."

"You can come over to my place for the holidays," the words left Tristane's mouth before she could stop herself.

Both Ginny and Hermione gave Tristane a weird look.

"I mean, it'll be my birthday and there'll be a party to introduce me to the society or something and I was going to invite you guys for the party so might as well you come and stay over, Gin, if you want," Tristane explained herself in a hurry, not daring to look at either Ginny or Hermione. She decided to glance at Pansy who was giving her a calculated look. Crap. Did Pansy know something?

"That's actually a great idea, Tristane. Ginny won't be by herself for Christmas," Hermione kicked Ginny's feet under the table before the redhead could say anything. Everybody looked at Hermione curiously, wondering what was going on.

"Who are you going to invite, Tris?" Pansy asked.

"Uh well, you guys basically, the whole Slytherin house, Neville," Draco snorted and got a elbow to the ribs from Tristane, "the teaching staff, Luna, and Harry."

"Wait, why does Potter get an invitation?" Draco was indignant.

"Because he's been helpful with that reporter case, you dolt," Tristane shot him an annoyed look.

"Draco, it's her party, let her do as she wishes," Hermione interjected firmly.

Draco looked up to the ceiling and sighed in defeat.

Tristane dared a glance at Ginny but was disappointed (or relieved?) that the redhead was determined to keep her eyes on her food. Was the invitation too forward? Would the redhead take it wrongly? Should she invite Daphne as well? But no, Tristane did not feel she could stand spending time with both Ginny _and_ Daphne alone in an empty house for about a week. Should she explain her action to Daphne? But why should she? Daphne did not know anything about her feelings.

Tristane suppressed a groan. What had she done now?

* * *

"You've done well, Miss Skeeter," Patrick raised his glass at Rita, who clicked it with her own.

"Thank you, sir. I enjoyed doing the task," she grinned. Well, who would not? Hurting the Granger bitch was her favourite moment.

"Jerome helped a lot too," she added, raising her glass to Jerome. The butler managed to whisper to several Death Eater inmates who went ballistic when informed that the Dark Lord's betrayer's only child was dating a Mudblood. Lucius's death was an unexpected but nice surprise.

"I am pleased with the both of you," the Fawley patriarch declared, smiling from ear to ear. "My beloved grandchildren informed me that our prey has taken to withdraw herself from her friends. This is good news. Soon, we can blot her from her miserable existence. Let's enjoy our victories for the moment, my good friends."

Rita grinned broadly. She was loving this job.


	20. Chapter 20

_**Hi Skellyshook, thank you for leaving a review. I'm sorry if their progression gnaws at you, but what's life without drama? :p**_

 ** _I hope you guys are still enjoying the story and my apologies for any mistakes._**

 ** _Btw I just found out people do play Quidditch in real life! I am so going to try to play it. My life feels complete. :D Any real-life Quidditch players here? If yes, you rock!_**

 ** _To all Canberrans, happy Canberra Day! I love public holidays that fall on Mondays. Make the week flies faster._**

 ** _Alright, I should stop blabbing. Y'all just want to read the story, not my inane mutterings. Enjoy the story, everyone!_**

 ** _JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter world._**

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWENTY**

Tristane jumped to her left, crashing to the table beside her. Ignoring the pain in her knee, she took refuge behind the table, catching up her breath. She was lucky – a yellow jet shot past her just inches away. Tristane tried to cast the Shield charm but the only thing coming out of her wand was a faint wisp of smoke.

She swore loudly, causing the attacker to chuckle and stop the barrage of attacks.

"Alright, I will pause my attacks and in the meantime calm down and cast the Shield charm," a composed and elegant Fleur stood next to Tristane.

Unlike the French professor, Tristane looked like a mess: her black hair was unruly (she felt like a crazy lioness), sweat was pouring from her pores, there were various cuts and bruises covering her, and there was a torn at the side of her favourite robe. Feeling conscious of the contrast in appearance, Tristane adjusted her green necktie. At least there was one thing in its proper place.

Fleur stood silently and watched Tristane, making the Slytherin squirmed. What was it with beautiful people and their abilities to make you feel insignificant and uncomfortable? Tristane shook her head and told herself to focus. She muttered the incantation and again, a wisp of smoke was emitted from her wand. Tristane tried again, this time in a louder voice, but the result was still the same. She was dismayed.

"Take it easy, don't force yourself," Fleur could feel her student's disappointment.

Tristane took a deep breath and tried again.

Nope, it was still the same.

Not for the first time in her life since entering Hogwarts, Tristane felt like breaking the goddamn wand and just wallow in her misery forever. This was too difficult.

"I can't, Professor," she despaired.

Fleur sat in front of Tristane, facing the student.

"Alright, let's try from something simpler. Try the Levitating Charm," she instructed.

Tristane reluctantly obeyed. She focused on one of her shoes (it fell off her feet sometime during the duel) that was across the room and muttered the incantation. The Slytherin poured her energy into it and slowly, the shoe was lifted up. But not for long. Tristane slumped back against the table, exhausted.

"Professor, I don't think this is working," she felt like giving up. "Why don't you just train me to dodge attacks and run away? I doubt I can even cast anything in a real duel."

"Miss Black, I am devoting part of my time for your training, not for fun," Fleur said sternly. "We still don't know who's targeting you and in the event you're on your own, we need you to be able to keep yourself safe until help arrives. I will not accept giving up from you."

Tristane closed her eye and exhaled. What was the point of the whole exercise if she could not even cast a useful spell?

"Let's finish for today. Get some supper and sleep early tonight," Fleur ordered. "We shall continue this after the break and do try to practice some spells while on holiday, alright?"

Tristane nodded dully. She had a hunch for the reason of her inability to use a wand properly, but there was no way she could discuss it with anyone. No, people would immediately send her to Azkaban without a second thought. Tristane forced herself to get to her feet with Fleur's help and bid her professor a good night.

Tristane's hand was reaching for the door when the pain started. The Slytherin fell to her knees and grabbed at her eye, the eye that was hidden behind the eye patch, the one people assumed was gone forever. The pain felt like hot needles poking from inside her skulls outward. It was excruciating.

Tristane did not realise she was screaming herself hoarse and clawing at her injured eye until Fleur's words went through her mind.

"Tell me where the pain is, Miss Black. I need to know so that I can help you," the professor coaxed the screaming student, kneeling beside her. Fleur was on high alert and scanned her surroundings – there was nobody nearby. Had the attacker left?

Tristane became aware of Fleur's presence and, moments later, Mr. Mysterio the Unspeakable appeared. He knelt next to Fleur, asking what happened. Tristane took a deep breath and controlled herself. They must not know what was going on with her. With much effort, Tristane moved her hands from her head and clutched at her stomach. She curled herself.

"I'm sorry Professor," Tristane gritted her teeth, battling the pain and fighting to see from her healthy eye, "I'm having uh, period."

"Period?" Fleur and Mysterio asked at the same time, exchanging a glance with each other.

"Yeah, period, I uh, I have always been a sickly child and my period tends to come not according to schedule and when it comes, the pain would be excruciating," the lies flowed easily from her mouth. Tristane struggled to keep her face from contorting so much.

Mysterio turned to Fleur for guidance. He was, after all, a man and the realm of menstruation was beyond his expertise.

"Are you sure it's just stomach cramps?" Fleur asked skeptically. Tristane looked like clawing at her face moments before.

"Yes, Professor. This is usually the case," Tristane prayed that Fleur would not probe too much.

When had the professor's eyes turned yellowish-silver? What was this aura coming off from Fleur? Tristane wanted to cry so badly, the pain suddenly doubled in its intensity. She struggled to her feet, still clutching at her stomach (she wished she could clutch at her head instead).

"I uh I just need a warm bath, some chocolates, and some painkiller," Tristane said rapidly, trying to get out of the room, trying to get away from Fleur. The more Fleur emitted her strange aura, the scarier her eyes became, and the more intense the pain in Tristane's head was. Tristane had no idea what it meant – the pain was too much – but she knew she had to get away, as far away as possible.

"Don't worry about me, I just need the toilet," Tristane rambled on and half-running away to the dormitory. She ignored Fleur's calls.

At the junction, instead of continuing straight to the direction of the Slytherin dormitory, Tristane veered left and climbed up the stairs and entered the nearest toilets. She crashed into one of the cubicles and slumped on the toilet seat. With one hand she gripped her head tightly, trying to massage it to (hopefully) reduce the pain, and with another, she took out a small, round, smooth stone from her pocket. There was a symbol on that stone. Satisfied that she took out the correct stone, she chanted several incantations on it. The symbol on the stone lighted brightly briefly and the lines making up the symbol turned from black to white.

Tristane sighed in relief and pocketed the stone. Now nobody would be able to catch her, not even Mrs. Norris. She took off the eye patch (only she was able to take it off) and a headache hit her, in addition to the dulling pain. It was difficult for her to see properly – the injured eye, hidden by the eye patch, could only see things in shades of red. The hotter an object was, the brighter the redness. Combined with her normal eye, Tristane had a massive headache trying to look at things. But that was not the only reason why she covered her eye with an eyepatch.

 _I felt your body was struggling, I thought you were in danger_ , a melodious voice said in her ear, his tone full of apologies.

"I was fine, was just having extra classes," Tristane muttered tiredly. "I told you, if I were in danger I would ask for your help, Muzkon."

 _My apologies, Tristane. I sensed a dangerous creature and I chose to act without your permission._

Tristane sighed. He must be talking about the Unspeakable guy. Was Mysterio near enough to trigger that?

"That's alright, what's done is done. I'm just glad nobody suspect a thing," Tristane closed her eyes. The view was giving her intense pain. "I know that the pain is bound to come, but I thought it's too early for that? Shouldn't it appear after my coming of age ceremony?"

 _I am not a trivial being, Tristane_ , Muzkon scoffed. _As I have warned you before, I hold a lot of power which your body may not be able to handle. It's a good thing you're a magical being – my help would have caused your death otherwise. I believe your magic is forcing you to mature at a quicker pace than you should_.

"Uh, so am I dying then?"

Muzkon chuckled. His melodious voice calmed her.

 _No, young one, you are not. I would not agree to help you if I knew I would be killing you. You're just having unexpected growth spurt of some sort. It will last for a while, so do bear with it._

"How do I ease this pain? I can't keep on telling everyone I'm having period pain," she grumbled.

Muzkon laughed, the happy sound reverberated in Tristane's skull. That somehow lessened the pain.

 _I will work with you on that, young witch. But I can't shield you from the pain forever. You must grow your magical capabilities._

"But how? I can barely cast spells," she despaired.

Muzkon snorted.

 _Play with that stick of yours if you must, but don't focus on that. I don't understand why you humans love to limit your magical capabilities. A wand is just a medium to channel and amplify your magical will. You have no need for a wand, unless you are very weak._

"But I am weak," she grumbled.

Muzkon growled. He was annoyed.

 _If you are weak, your body cannot host me, Tristane. I see you are skilled with runes. While that is good, you are still limiting yourself. Learn to channel your thoughts, will, and strength into your surroundings. That is how magic should be._

"But – "

 _No buts! Ponder what I've just said and put it into practice. I have to lay dormant now before your body combust. Grow your magical strengths, Tristane, if you want to live and if you want to take revenge for your father._

Tristane suddenly could only see from one eye – the healthy one. She sighed, knowing that her injured eye would now show up as a non-functioning eyeball. She covered it with the eye patch again. True to his word, Muzkon helped to lessen the pain. While the pain had not disappeared completely, it was at a level Tristane could tolerate and ignore, even.

Tristane sat on the toilet for a while, regaining her strength. It was the second time she spoke at length to Muzkon, an entity that now lied dormant in her body. The first time she met Muzkon was when she was attacked in the woods at the edge of Malfoy Manor. She was in so much pain and was certain she would die that day. Memories of something she had read in her father's collection, in a book called _Daemon Almanacs and Rituals_ surfaced in her mind and, out of desperation, recited a paragraph from the book and called out Muzkon, the first being that came to her mind.

It was a gamble, as Tristane had never summoned anything before. The books were always cautioning her to set up a circle of protection before summoning any entity, and to start from the weakest being. Tristane had no clue who or what Muzkon was, and was not sure whether Muzkon would immediately kill everyone the moment he appeared. If that was the case, Tristane would be happy to take down her attackers. At least her death would not be in vain.

But when a figure heavily cloaked in purple appeared, time seemed to freeze. A melodious sound came from the creature, his appearance hidden by the cloak. He had introduced himself as simply Muzkon and wondered who had awoken him from his slumber. By then, Tristane could not think straight and was not sure whether there were further incantations she should be chanting or a certain code of greetings to say. She blurted out she needed help and Muzkon took a glance at her surroundings then agreed to help. He raised a finger that looked very human and closed Tristane's left eyelid then muttered something in a language Tristane had never heard before. The next thing Tristane knew, she was being carried by Draco into Malfoy Manor and a voice in her head, Muzkon, was telling her that she was safe now and that the only person who could remove the eye patch the demon had so kindly given was Tristane. She blacked out after that.

In the days following the attack, she spent a lot of time in the Malfoy's library, searching for further information on Muzkon. She was disappointed when she could not find any, but she did find information warning her that a great pain would come to complete the ritual of hosting her body with a demon. Initially, Tristane was afraid that the demon would take over her body but Muzkon seemed docile and happy to be left dormant. He had informed her that the only time he would forcefully take over her body was whenever she was in grave danger, because that was the reason why Muzkon entered her: to protect her from danger. Tristane had no idea whether to trust the demon or not, but for the time being was thankful that Muzkon had no intention to control her body.

Tristane sighed. At least during the holidays she would be left alone in her home. She was not going to stay at Malfoy Manor. But then she cringed. Ginny would be staying her for the holidays. Tristane groaned and hoped Ginny would keep on avoiding her, so that the Slytherin could hide away easily whenever the pain came.

The bell then rang, signaling that it was midnight.

How long had she been in the toilets?

Tristane groaned again and dragged herself to the Heads' Quarters. With luck, Draco and Hermione would be asleep and did not realise that Tristane had not gone to bed yet.

* * *

Ginny fidgeted, waiting at the entrance for the troop. She had not explicitly said her acceptance to Tristane's invitation, courtesy of Hermione's interference. But the Head Girl had pointed out to her that this could be her chance to get Tristane. Since that breakfast, Ginny had been avoiding Tristane unconsciously, afraid of talking to her. The redhead knew that Tristane tried to get Ginny alone to talk, but Ginny was not ready for any kind of confrontation. The usually brash and heads-on Gryffindor was uncharacteristically shy and unsure of herself when it came to Tristane Black.

The troop finally appeared: it was agreed (well, Hermione had agreed on Ginny's behalf for her) that the four of them – Ginny, Hermione, Draco and Tristane – would be travelling together. Blaise had gone earlier when his mother came to the school to pick him up (he had joked that he was getting the tenth father or something) while Pansy and Theo opted to accompany Daphne. Nobody knew that Daphne had broken up with Ginny, but from Daphne's reluctance to be around Ginny, they were suspecting something.

Fleur had told Ginny earlier of what happened during Tristane's "extra class" session. The French professor was worried that something terrible had happened, because her Veela side sensed a dark energy. Fleur observed Tristane for the next few days but aside from looking slightly pale and exhausted, Tristane seemed fine. Fleur pleaded her sister in law to be cautious during her stay and to never leave Tristane's side. The strange thing was, when Fleur wished her luck, Ginny had a feeling that it was not meant for protecting Tristane. Rather, Fleur was using the tone that one would use to wish luck to another in pursuing someone romantically. Could it be possible that Fleur had a hunch on what was happening in Ginny's heart? After all, Fleur was part Veela and could be infuriating when it came to matters of love. But Ginny was convinced it was just her imagination. There was no way Fleur could sense any of that unless she had a talk with the rest of the Weasleys. Ginny sighed. At least Fleur was still on friendly terms with her, unlike the rest of her family.

Ginny sat quietly in the carriage next to Tristane, who was ignoring the redhead. Draco and Hermione had insisted on entering the train first but Ginny suspected they did that to ensure Ginny and Tristane would have to sit next to each other. Was the ignorant Draco part of Hermione's little scheme? Or was it just a coincidence? Either way, Hermione and Draco pretended that nothing happened and went on a long and boring discussion on the magical properties of a goblin's blood. Ginny wanted to applaud Hermione's tactics: make it boring so that neither she nor Tristane would want to join in the discussion, forcing the two witches to either sit in silence or talk to each other.

But Ginny refused to be the one to break the silence. Tristane had been actively avoiding her, so why should the redhead bother to try and talk to her? Ginny wondered how was she supposed to stick with Tristane while in the Slytherin's house if Tristane decided that silence was more than enough.

"Tristane, where do you stay since you decided not to contest for Grimmauld Place?" Hermione asked. She took a pity on Ginny.

Tristane, who was lost in her thoughts, broke out of her reverie.

"Well, uh, there's this place that the Blacks traditionally used for special rituals and important festivals," Tristane explained, trying to remember. "It contains the family's sacred grove and tombs."

"The place was not built for human lodging but Tristane here liked the place so mother had been busy rearranging and redecorating the place to be Tristane's home," Draco interjected, amusement shown on his face.

Tristane stuck a tongue at her cousin.

"Well, the place is beautiful and it's not my fault my ancestors chose to live elsewhere," she defended herself.

"Where's the location?" Ginny asked out of curiousity.

Tristane looked at her for a moment before answering, "Sorry, I can't tell you. I can only bring you there."

"Then how will people know where to go for your party?" Hermione frowned.

"The formal invitation cards are a one-way Portkey to the place," Draco explained. "It will only work on the time stated on the cards though. So please don't lose your card."

Hermione and Draco launched into a discussion about Portkey creation, leaving Tristane and Ginny to be silent again. Ginny glanced at Tristane and noticed that the one-eyed witch looked exhausted. Tristane leaned back into her seat and closed her eye. Ginny remembered what Fleur said and was concerned: was this the aftermath of an attack? Ginny debated whether she should raise the issue and risk Tristane's ire or keep quiet and just observe. Before she could make a decision, Tristane had snored softly and her head lolled on to Ginny's shoulder. Hermione smirked at that, making Ginny blush. Draco, while continuing to talk, gave Ginny a calculated look. Ginny did not like that one bit.

The rest of the train ride was uneventful, with Draco and Hermione occasionally going for patrol. Daphne passed their carriage once and happened to glance into it. Ginny saw the witch walked away quickly and felt a pang of guilt. Fortunately, Draco and Hermione did not notice Daphne or else Ginny would be interrogated right on the spot.

When they arrived at King's Cross, Draco shooed them out and appointed himself as the trunks carrier. Ginny was not going to argue with that – if someone wanted to do it, she would happily allow it. Outside, Ginny stretched and looked around. To her disappointment, not a single person from her family was there to greet her.

"What do you expect, a welcoming committee after telling them that under no circumstances would you return home unless they apologise to both you and Tristane?" she grumbled to herself.

"What are you muttering to yourself about? Come on," Draco nudged at her, beckoning for them to follow him. He pointed his wand at their trunks and the objects followed him from behind. Ginny steered clear of the trunks – there were too many accidents involving trunks and the twins, making her wary of trunks. The thoughts of Fred, who she successfully repressed from her mind, made her sad.

Ginny was curious – what was Draco doing?

Draco led them to a lone figure in the middle of the station, dressed up in black, in a grieving widow's garb.

"Mother," he hugged her briefly.

Ginny bit a remark, wanting to tease him for showing affection to a human being.

"Hi, Aunt Cissa," Tristane hugged Narcissa when Draco was done.

Narcissa Malfoy looked at both Ginny and Hermione and hugged them both. Ginny was panicking: this was not something she would ever expect to happen in her lifetime. She wanted to ask Narcissa whether the woman was crazy enough to hug a blood traitor and a mudblood, but held her tongue. Ginny glanced at a flustered Hermione and knew that her best friend was in shock as well.

"Miss Weasley and Miss Granger, a pleasure to see you both again," greeted Narcissa in a neutral tone. Ginny was sure the world was ending. Narcissa Malfoy, speaking to both Ginny and Hermione without an icy tone? Bellatrix must be rolling in her grave.

"Likewise, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione said politely.

Ginny just nodded.

"I have to excuse myself, my parents are waiting outside," Hermione said as politely as she could. Ginny noticed that the brunette was looking uncomfortable.

Narcissa nodded.

"I'll see you guys soon. Have fun," Hermione hugged each of them a quick goodbye before exiting the station.

"Well, seeing that there are a lot of curious onlookers, let's just go home, shall we?" Narcissa offered a hand to Ginny.

"Please take my hand, Miss Weasley. Tristane is unable to Apparate yet and as such, I will have to bring you to her home," Narcissa instructed.

Ginny nodded and took the proffered hand. It felt weird, holding the hand of someone she disliked all her life. Tristane took Narcissa's other hand while Draco seemed to be the one bringing the trunks. Moments later, they Apparated in a grand hallway. Ginny looked around, her jaw dropping.

Ginny was expecting a house akin to Grimmauld Place, with plenty of items enchanted with black magic and ugly tapestries. But Tristane's house was not: the atmosphere felt relaxed and bright, with cheerful colours and elegant decoration. Ginny was relieved that there were no house-elves' heads in view. There was no insane portrait screaming her head off either. In fact, Ginny could not see any portrait nearby.

"Miss Weasley, welcome to the ancestral home to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," there were pride in Narcissa's eyes.

"I renamed 'Pirate's Lair' to shorten it," grinned Tristane.

Narcissa pursed her lips.

"Tristane, that is not a suitable name befitting an important place such as this," she reprimanded her niece.

"Um I've submitted the papers for the name change," Tristane gave her aunt an innocent face.

Narcissa looked scandalized. Ginny could not hold her laughter and Draco even grinned.

"Come on aunt, it's my home now," Tristane changed her facial expression to that of a puppy's.

Narcissa exhaled.

"I expect you to rename it to a more sensible name when your foolishness departs from you," Narcissa grumbled.

"I'm sorry, I'd love to stay longer for a chat but Draco and I must take our leave now," Narcissa apologised. "There are too many things that Draco must do before the year ends. Lucius' death left us unprepared, you see. I'll see the both of you soon."

Ginny was relieved. She was dreading spending time with Narcissa.

Tristane hugged both mother and son goodbye and the two of them Disapparated. Ginny stared at the now empty spot, unsure what she should do. Tristane was the one who took the first step.

"I'll show you your room," the Slytherin said shortly. Ginny nodded and just followed.

The way to Ginny's room seemed to be long and winding, but Tristane admitted she was lost. She had not spent much time in the Pirate's Lair and was just taking a wild guess.

"Why don't you ask a house-elf?" Ginny suggested. She was certain that the house would hold a few house-elves.

"Huh, it never occurred to me," Tristane looked like she just had an epiphany. "But nah, that's alright. I'm pretty sure they're busy doing their jobs. We'll just have our adventure."

They went through many rooms and halls (Ginny wondered how big was the place) and eventually Tristane found a staircase painted in emerald green. The Slytherin made a triumphant noise and took Ginny's arm, dragging the redhead upstairs. Tristane seemed to forget that she was supposed to be avoiding Ginny. Upstairs, there were only two mahogany doors: one on the right, and one on the left. Tristane dragged Ginny to the left one, with a red doorknob, and pushed the door opened.

The room was bigger than Gryffindor's common room, which in itself was pretty big. The walls were painted in a darker shade of gold, and there was a huge Gryffindor banner covering one wall. The bed was gigantic – Ginny was sure it could fit her whole family – and there were at least seven pillows ( _why seven?_ Ginny wondered).

"Uh, Tristane? How many people would be in this room?"

Tristane looked surprise.

"It's just you, Gin," the Slytherin tilted her head to one side. "I hope you like it. I asked Aunt Cissa to put a Gryffindor banner because I know you're a Gryffindor."

"Well, it's a massive room, but I love it," Ginny reassured her. Heck, she could fit nearly the entire Burrow into her room.

"I'm glad you love it," Tristane looked pleased. "I'm just next door," she gestured to the door at the other side, the one with a green knob, "so you can just drop by anytime."

"Uh so in this entire floor, there are only two rooms?" Ginny could not believe her ears.

Tristane nodded happily.

"I asked for this floor to be renovated just this way," she explained. "Aunt Cissa has done excellently. The view from this floor is excellent and I love it. This floor used to be a huge room dedicated to all sorts of awards that have been bestowed to the Blacks. But I want my room to be here, so this floor was revamped."

Ginny was speechless. No purebloods brought up in the traditional way would dare to revamp an ancestral home. But then again, Tristane was brought up differently and since the house was hers, she could damn well do as she pleased.

"Just purely out of curiousity, is there a Gryffindor banner in your room as well?" Ginny would not be surprised if there was. If the room was as big as hers, Tristane could fit all four Hogwarts' houses banners.

Tristane laughed and pulled Ginny to the direction of the other room.

"You can see it for yourself."

The room was identical to Ginny's except that Slytherin colours and banner decorated the room. Ginny glanced at the bed, trying to count the number of pillows there. Were there seven as well? Without a thought, Ginny crossed the room to the bed. Tristane followed her curiously. Oh yeah, seven pillows as well. Must it be seven though?

"What are you looking at, Gin?" asked Tristane curiously.

"Huh – no, nothing. Was just checking whether you have seven pillows just like I do."

Tristane raised an eyebrow. She took a step nearer to her bed and counted the pillows. There were seven of them. She gave Ginny an amused look.

"I don't know why the number of pillows is important to you, but I hope you – argh!"

Tristane was taking a step away from her bed and somehow her feet smacked the bedside table. She swore and tried to hold her injured feet. Tristane became unbalanced and reflexively grabbed Ginny to prevent from falling. Ginny, who was still focusing on the pillows (the threadwork was flawless), did not expect any of that and both of them fell as a result. Fortunately, they fell on the bed, with Ginny atop.

The close proximity between Ginny's face and Tristane's made Ginny's brains suddenly turned into mashed potato – useless for thinking. They were so close – so close that Ginny could see emotions swirled through Tristane's grey eye. It was the only thing occupying Ginny's mind since the night of the party: Tristane being this close, with her warm, grey eye. Ginny could see conflicting emotions in the depth of the grey. She wondered whether getting closer would make her understand those emotions. Ginny felt the need – no – the desire to understand the emotions behind that grey eye, the person behind those emotions. Ginny breathed in the scent that was uniquely Tristane, of lilac which reminded Ginny of happy times, especially flying in the sky playing an intense game of Quidditch.

Ginny felt drawn in by the scent, by the enchanting eye, and basically by everything that was Tristane Black. Ginny unconsciously inched closer. Tristane's breath hitched but she did not say a word. Emboldened, Ginny moved closer until their noses touched. Ginny tilted her head and closed her eyes, wanting to taste Tristane again.

But Tristane's fingers were faster: the Slytherin placed her fingers between the both of them, making Ginny kissed Tristane's fingers.

"What are you doing?" Tristane whispered. There was a slight tremor in her voice.

Ginny's mind was blank. What was she trying to do?

"Uh, kissing you, I think," the redhead said without thinking.

Tristane blushed.

"I, uh, am flattered but uh, I think it's time for dinner," Tristane gently pushed Ginny off her and walked out the door.

Ginny was dumbfounded and her heart was thumping madly. What was she expecting, that Tristane would allow their lips to touch and whatever Ginny had done to be forgotten easily?

 _Think, idiot, think_ , Ginny told herself. _You've never had a problem getting those boys. You should not have a problem winning this girl's heart. You're a fucking Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake. Be brave._

Ginny decided to reduce her over-thinking and just follow her instincts impulsively. Over thinking had led her to this mess. There was no way impulsiveness would be worse. Realising that Tristane had left the room, Ginny sprinted off. She had no idea where to go and it would be a terrible thing to do to her growling stomach if she lost her beacon of hope to guide her to dinner.


	21. Chapter 21

_**Hi Skellyshook, thank you for leaving a review, as always. I was just teasing you about that, I'm sorry if I came across offended. I wasn't offended, really.**_

 _ **Hi Sakura Lisel, thank you for leaving a review. Yes, it was not Tristane's fault for what happened but sometimes people apologise even when they're not at fault, just to keep the peace. In this case, I believe Tristane apologised because she felt sorry for Hermione and that she felt that somehow she was in the middle of a lover's spat. It was just that Ron was suddenly being gentlemanly to this stranger just to get back at Hermione (most times, he would annoy her).**_

 _ **I hope you have a lovely weekend, everyone, and that you are still enjoying the story. Apologies in advance for any mistakes made.**_

 _ **JK Rowling owns the Harry Potter world.**_

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWENTY ONE**

Ginny was tossing and turning on her massive bed, wrestling with her seven pillows. Throughout the course of the night, most of the pillows somehow managed to get kicked out of the huge bed. Ginny could not sleep despite the comfort and a satisfied stomach. She was anxious and there were just too many things going on in her mind, mainly Tristane Black. Ginny was wrestling with herself, trying to figure out what to do. There were endless possibilities when it came to Tristane, and Ginny did not want to take any course of action that she would regret. As much as she craved and desired the Slytherin, there were two main things that held Ginny back from diving headlong: gender and Tristane's bloodline.

Ginny was uncertain whether her liking another witch was a 'phase', as what her mother would call it. Sex with Daphne was pleasant, and aside for the fact that Ginny had wished it was Tristane instead of Daphne, the redhead was not disgusted by the female anatomy. But was she disgusted with male anatomy? Ginny tried to remember the feeling she got making out with her ex-boyfriends. Some were sloppy, some were excellent, a few were boring, and others were interesting. Kissing Daphne reminded her of those times: it was quite nice, but there was not much excitement. Ginny was always left with a feeling of missing something, as if it was just not quite right. With Tristane, however, it was just perfect. It was indescribable, but Ginny knew she never wanted it to end. It was something she craved for, as if Tristane was a drug addiction that could not be cured. But how would Ginny explain it to her parents, to her family? Was she ready and prepared for the worst possibility? Was Ginny ready to face Tristane's family as well? While Narcissa was never a Death Eater, she surely had enough expertise in the dark side to be able to make life hell for the redhead if she wanted. Ginny remembered the Basilisk incident in her first year and did not want such a foul experience to happen ever again.

Ginny had very few information on Tristane's childhood and how she was reared. Was her father as knowledgeable as the average Black family member in regards to the dark side? If so, how much of it did he teach Tristane? For all Ginny knew, the Slytherin could be an excellent actress and was fooling everyone all along. But deep in her heart, Ginny was convinced that Tristane was not evil. Fleur repeatedly cautioned Ginny that there was a darkness coming from Tristane, but how could one such as Tristane who was pretty much useless with wands and barely had any magical knowledge be able to be Voldy No. 2? Regardless, a Black was still a Black. Even Sirius who spent all his life running amok as a Marauder, a Gryffindor, and went against everything his family stood for had a mean streak in him. Whether it was due to youthful folly or genetics, Ginny was not sure. Tristane seemed a risky venture.

And yet, Ginny could not help but be drawn to Tristane. The redhead was comfortable with Tristane. Ginny liked being around her. Ginny loved Tristane's lilac scent, calming her. Ginny felt refreshed with Tristane's pleasant attitude toward everyone regardless of background and status, something the redhead rarely saw in Hogwarts. Everybody was quick to judge, but slow to accept the fact that both sides, the light and the dark, were the same: segregating everyone. Even the Hufflepuffs, despite being famous for tolerance and acceptance, were still judgmental on anyone. This messy train of thoughts were not helpful in Ginny's quest to secure entrance to Dream Land.

Sleep was elusive and Ginny admitted defeat. She climbed down the bed and drank from the jug of water on the bedside table. Ginny crossed the room and stood by the windows, admiring the view. Drops of snow were falling from the night sky, covering everything with a blanket of whiteness. As far as her eyes could see in the dim light, mountains and valleys filled the horizon. Ginny guessed the Pirates' Lair was located in a mountainous area, but she could not figure out yet which part of the world were they at.

Ginny decided to take a walk around the Lair. After all, Tristane did give her green light to roam around wherever she wanted. Ginny took the robe she threw on the sofa when she went for bed. It was red, in a true Gryffindor colour, courtesy of Tristane. The robe was enchanted to keep the wearer warm, which was perfect for a cold night.

Ginny took a step down the staircase and paused, glancing at Tristane's door. Should she knock? The redhead was aware that she needed to talk to the one-eyed witch, to explain her feelings and whatever was on her mind. But she decided against it. Tristane had been looking tired lately and the Slytherin needed her rest. Ginny could bother her in the morning, when Christmas came.

Christmas.

The word left a bitter taste in her mouth. Usually, Ginny would be in her bed in the Burrow after a night full of games and friendly banter with her brothers. She missed her mother's cooking – were they having the usual roasted chicken for Christmas Eve? Ginny wondered whether in the morning she would receive the annual Weasley jumper. Would Hermione receive one as well? And how were her brothers faring? This would be the first Christmas since Fred's death, and Ginny was not with her family to comfort them and draw comfort from them. This was the worst Christmas ever.

Ginny sighed and climbed down the spiral staircase. The house was quiet, much too quiet compared to the Burrow and it struck Ginny how lonely Tristane would be if the redhead was not there to accompany her. Tristane was an only child and spent most of her time with her father, away from civilization. How was the witch brought up, exactly?

Ginny wandered about, entering random rooms that took her fancy. The Lair still retained its stately and magnificent aura, no doubt from being revered by the Blacks as their ancestral home. Ginny never bothered to find out about the Weasleys' history. All she knew was she was from a long line of purebloods which historically always aligned themselves with the forces of light, unlike the Blacks.

A thought crossed Ginny's mind: how did the Weasleys achieved living in near poverty? Ginny was not 'monkish' enough to be happy and in full acceptance of the family's financial status. While she was not a materialistic person, there were things that she wished she could ask from her parents without watching their faces frowned, knowing they could not afford the items she asked for. Ginny was eternally grateful to be the only girl – while there were many of her things that were hand-me-downs, some of her feminine clothes were brand-new. Nothing expensive, mostly bought during clearance sales, but they were new nevertheless. She sometimes pitied Ron – being the youngest son was nothing to be envied of in the Weasley family. All of his things were handed down starting from Bill, to Fred and George. Also, some of Bill's things were handed down from their father. It was only due to their participation during the war that each of them was awarded a decent sum of money from the Ministry.

Ginny shook her mind, clearing her thoughts. She did not blame her parents, but she sometimes wished they would be more… well, having less financial problems. Ginny opened a set of oaken double doors and peered in.

Countless books, parchments, scrolls, and tomes were housed in a massive room doubled the size of the Burrow. How big was the Pirates' Lair, exactly? It was astonishing. Ginny entered the room, admiring the view. She walked alongside one bookshelf and noticed that as she walked, the section of the bookshelf paralleled to her lighted up. Clever, very clever, she thought to herself. The whole library would not require to be fully lit, only the areas where the readers were. Ginny would drag Hermione to check this place out when the brunette came for a visit in a few days' time. Hermione would die in happiness.

Ginny also found the kitchens and was surprised to see two house-elves still working. The creatures seemed delighted to see Ginny and made her scones and a cup of tea. Unlike the squalid conditions of house-elves found in a typical evil-ish household, the house-elves were clean, looking happy, and seemed to be in good health. Well, one more point to Tristane in being a non-evil warlord.

With stomach stuffed and feet tired, Ginny decided to return to her room. Maybe this time she would be able to sleep. Before she climbed the spiral staircase, she noticed that there were a set of stairs leading downwards slightly hidden behind the spiral ones. Curious, she climbed down and was faced with a rather long hallway which seemed to be adorned with numerous portraits. At the end of the hallway was a bright light, and Ginny wanted to know what that was.

The redhead walked silently, not wanting to wake the portraits. There were hundreds of dead Blacks, sleeping in their respective portraits. Most had the standard haughty face and wavy dark hair. All of them looked beautiful though. The Blacks had it all: wealth, looks, and power. Unfortunately they had to mess it up by inter-marriage. Their blind obsession with blood purity would be their undoing, if it not were for Tristane's existence.

She was nearing the source of light when someone coughed twice, asking for her attention. She spun around and scanned the portraits, wondering which of them was still awake.

"Why is a blood traitor traipsing around this sacred place?" the voice was cold and disdainful.

She saw him, a wizard sitting on a large chair, holding the head of a dragon. He stared at her, eyes full of loathing and anger.

Before Ginny could reply, another voice said angrily, "Our family is on the brink of destruction, yet all you think of is blood purity?"

Ginny turned her head, searching for the voice. It was a grey-haired wizard, in an ancient Healers' uniform, standing on a boulder in the desert.

The first wizard, whom Ginny decided to nickname as 'asshole', scoffed and said, "You've always been soft towards these… abominations."

Healer-guy laughed darkly. "Abominations? Aside from wands, their lives are not so different from ours. You should be glad your descendant is smart enough to know that."

"I'd rather have my bloodline dies out than being tainted by filth," asshole huffed.

Healer-guy rolled his eyes. By then, several other portraits woke up, murmuring and watching the heated exchange.

"And what have you done during your lifetime, Lemuel, aside from emptying the coffers to purchase firewhisky and whores?"

"I killed a dragon, you wretched scum! Much better than you, saving those filths instead of ending their miserable existence!"

"Exactly, you only killed _one_ dragon throughout your lifetime of thirty years," the Healer laughed, amused.

Lemuel swore and drew horrified gasps from the rest of the awoken portraits. Ginny stifled a laugh. What a rebel.

"You are distracting me from this blood traitor, you muggle-lover," Lemuel fumed. "She even dares to stay here and look at me with her disgusting, filthy – "

"Quiet!"

A lone figure stood at the entrance of the hallways, her hair tousled and robe worn carelessly. Tristane looked weary and exhausted, as if she could faint anytime. Unconsciously, Ginny's feet moved toward the Slytherin. The redhead would be there to catch Tristane if she were to fall.

"I am the current head of the Black family and in two days' time I will have my coming-of-age ceremony," Tristane's voice was that of cold fury. Her stare at Lemuel was hard, with a hint of insanity.

"I will not have portraits of my ancestors being impolite toward my guests. Ginevra Weasley is here as my special guest," she emphasized on the word 'special'. "This is the very reason why I have all of you kept together in one area, instead of placed all over the house. It is three fucking a.m.," the portraits gasped collectively in horror again, "and your bloody bickering kept me awake. If I ever hear you being disrespectful to any of my guests again, I will destroy your portrait and blow your name off the tapestry."

The threat worked. Lemuel kept quiet, his face red in anger. The Healer had a smug expression and winked at Ginny. The redhead felt oddly happy at being defended by Tristane. True, the offender was just a portrait, but Ginny was happy all the same.

"Are you alright?" Tristane turned to Ginny.

The redhead nodded.

"I was just looking around, couldn't sleep," she explained, afraid that Tristane would be angry at her for being the cause of the noises. "I saw a strange light at the end of the hallway and was just curious."

Tristane nodded.

"It's a magical barrier to keep the weather out in place of a door. It leads to the garden outside. I'd take you there but it's freezing. Come, let's go someplace else."

Tristane took Ginny's hand and led her upstairs.

"Sorry to wake you up," Ginny apologized. Tristane's steps were heavy and slow, as if she were forcing herself to move.

Tristane gave Ginny a small smile.

"It's okay, I couldn't sleep anyway," the Slytherin winced in pain and massaged her head.

Ginny looked at her with concern. She put an arm around Tristane's waist, to lend strength and prevent the other witch from falling down the stairs. Ginny helped Tristane to the Slytherin's room and was going to tuck her in when the redhead noticed that Tristane's sheets were damp. Tristane must be having severe headaches and had been tossing around her bed. So Ginny dragged the other witch to her room and helped her to get on the bed.

"Uh, I'm sorry if you're uncomfortable," Ginny apologised. "It's just that your sheets were damp and you need your rest and my bed is dry and so I thought it's better for you to sleep with me. I mean, on my bed." She was babbling. "I'll sleep on the couch, it's large enough for me."

As Ginny turned to go to the couch, Tristane grabbed her hand.

"Can you sleep with me? I mean, I was having nightmares," the Slytherin avoided looking into Ginny's eyes, her face a shade of red.

Ginny suppressed a grin and complied. Tristane moved to the side and Ginny slid under the blanket, conscious of the distance the Slytherin was putting.

"Uh, if Daphne asks, you can say that we're not touching each other," Tristane mumbled, looking away.

Ginny made a decision. She gently gathered a surprised Tristane in her arms and murmured, "I'm not with Daphne anymore, Tristane. We broke up some time ago."

"I'm sorry about that, Ginny," Tristane sounded genuine. She was also massaging her head, still wincing in pain.

"I'm serious about what I said before, Pirate," Ginny said gently. "I am your friend not because of something else. And I also have feelings for you, feelings that I don't quite understand and sometimes confuse me, but I do know that I like you a lot."

Tristane was quiet.

"I won't give up on you," Ginny added, vowing.

Tristane rested the hand that was massaging her head over Ginny's stomach, and the redhead felt it was a perfect position. Warm. Comfortable. Peaceful. Happy.

"You can do better than me," the Slytherin whispered. "You have a bright future, Gin, don't mess it up by chasing me."

Ginny frowned and tightened her hold on Tristane.

"That's nonsense," she said firmly. "I'd rather face difficulties than lie to myself while living an easy life. I like you. Nothing can change that."

Tristane was quiet. Her breathing slowly returned to a steady rhythm. Ginny thought the Slytherin finally fell asleep. She herself closed her eyes, trying to gain entrance into Dream Land.

"You don't know me well, Ginny." Ginny opened her eyes, rather surprise that Tristane was still awake. "But you know of my family history. We're a mess, and we stand for things you oppose. While I'm not like them, who's to say I won't turn into them? I'm a big risk. Plus I'm also a witch, not a wizard, and one who's pretty useless with a wand. The only thing I have is people's fear of my surname and the wealth that comes along being a Black. Other than that, I'm clueless about both muggle and wizarding worlds. I have nothing to offer you, really. I only have one eye. No parents. Heck, I don't even know who my mother was. I will be graduating Hogwarts without a proper certificate because there's no way I could take the exams. Also, I – "

Ginny could not take it anymore and kissed Tristane hard, catching the Slytherin with surprise. The kiss turned into a gentle and passionate affair, with Tristane returning it. There were butterflies rocking hard in Ginny's stomach, and a jolt of electricity coursing through her veins. Ginny deepened the kiss, already lost in it. Tristane let out a moan, and it set Ginny on fire, on the edge.

Ginny moved to kiss Tristane along the jaw, taking her sweet time. She breathed in the scent that was uniquely Tristane. Lilac. Tristane's hands were around Ginny, gripping the redhead's shoulders tightly. One of Ginny's hands supported her weight, allowing her to explore further, kissing Tristane down her neck while her other hand rested lightly on the Slytherin's waist.

"Wait, Gin," Tristane gasped. "Fast. Uh wait."

Ginny was brought out of the other world and gaze into Tristane's eye, full of a swirl of emotions. The Slytherin was breathless and her face was flushing. A hand softly caressed Ginny's cheek.

"You're supposed to wine and dine me first," Tristane was catching her breath.

Ginny could not repress her grin. She kissed Tristane's temple lightly.

"Would you go on date with me, Miss Black?"

Tristane huffed. "Only one?"

Ginny laughed and kissed Tristane quickly on the lips.

"Well, it all starts with one, right?"

Tristane smiled and pulled Ginny down for a cuddle.

"Are you sure though?"

"Yep. I don't know whether I'm doing the right thing or not, but I'm a Gryffindor and we Gryffindors follow our hearts. So to hell with whoever's and whatever's going to give us a hard time. Between your scary surname and my Gryffindor bravery, I'm pretty sure we can conquer the world."

Tristane chuckled.

"Then yes, I'll have a date with you, Miss Weasley. But it's late and before we can rule the world, we need our beauty sleep."

Ginny whispered in Tristane's ear, "Merry Christmas, Captain Hook."

"Merry Christmas, my Pirate."

Ginny grinned happily into her sleep. The gates to Dream Land were opened to her now.


	22. Chapter 22

The best part of Christmas was the early mornings, when you knew you could snuggle comfortably under your warm blanket without worrying about needing to wake up early to go for classes. The presents you received might be disappointing, but sleeping in late never failed to make you happy.

That was how Ginny felt when she woke up, snuggly, warm, and comfortable. There was a feeling of contentedness at the pit of her stomach, releasing a sigh of happiness. She had a fantastic dream during the night, one that was involving kissing a certain one-eyed Slytherin. Ginny wished that the dream was true, that Tristane would give her a chance. Ginny did not want to open her eyes, knowing that when she did, she would be facing another day of trying to get into Tristane's good grace.

But the shuffling head on her shoulder begged otherwise. Ginny was surprised with that. Feeling slightly nervous, Ginny breathed in deeply. There was the Lilac. Wait – did last night really happened? The redhead slowly opened her eyes, holding her breath. She begged the heavens to not play a cruel joke on her.

There she was, the wavy, long, dark hair of Tristane Black, entangled with her red hair. Ginny could not see Tristane's face, but she could imagine the other witch's peaceful expression when asleep. One of Tristane's hands was clasped with hers. Ginny could not stop herself from grinning. Merry Christmas.

"Ugh, wipe that smirk off your face, Weaslette," a drawl characteristic of one Draco Malfoy came from beside the bed.

He did not look too happy.

"I knew there's a reason why I stopped mother from dropping by and volunteered to do it myself," he frowned at Ginny. "She won't be happy to see this."

"Is that a threat?" Ginny grabbed her wand and twirl it in her hand, within Draco's line of sight.

"No," he shook his head, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. "That's a fact. If Tristane has another sibling, this will be just treated as another secret of the family. But she's the only child and she's expected to continue the Black line."

"How's that even possible? If I marry a guy I won't be a Black any longer," muttered a sleepy Tristane.

"Merry Christmas, cousin," Draco greeted cheerfully. Then he returned to his serious tone, "If you marry another pureblood male, you can have more than one child so that one of your children can be dedicated to the Black family. Listen, the whole pureblood society is all about lineage continuation. Same-sex relationships are unacceptable because those won't produce children. But those who are openly in such relationships will be alright as long as they are not heads of their households and their siblings can ensure the continuation of their family lines. You're expected to marry another male pureblood and have children for both the Blacks and your husband's line, Tris. But at least after you produce heirs you can continue your relationship with Weaslette here, although in secret."

Tristane wrapped her arm around Ginny tightly, clinging to the redhead.

"Can't magic help?"

Both Ginny and Draco looked at Tristane weirdly.

"You… have a good point there," Draco sounded surprised. "I've never thought of it that way. Yes, why can't magic help?"

"That actually makes a perfect argument," Ginny added. "I sometimes hear stories of how couples fail to conceive, but I've never heard of anyone turning to magic for help."

Draco dragged a chair and sat next to the bed. He looked excited.

"You're right, Tris! We've limit ourselves even though we have magic. This is actually a fantastic business idea. Since you brought that up, I'll make sure you'll be part of the venture, cousin."

"Uh… what are you talking about?"

"I propose that Malfoy Industries and Black Corporation Group have a joint venture in creating potions or spells to help couples conceive, whether they are barren or of the same gender."

"Wait, can men give birth too?" Ginny asked.

"We have magic," Draco shrugged. "One step at a time, I suppose. But, this will help get the heat off of you, Tris. I mean, except for the fact that Weasleys are considered blood traitors, then mother will not have strong objection against the both of you."

"Hold on," Ginny was suspicious. "You're sounding like you accept me dating your cousin. What gives, Ferret? I'm a witch, I'm a blood traitor, I'm poor, and I'm a Gryffindor. And I dated Harry Potter. By your standards, I am the worst candidate."

"Ugh, don't remind me of Scarhead," he groaned. "Look Weaslette, I honestly don't care who Tristane wants to date as long as she's happy. I'm just so happy the Dark Lord isn't here any longer because that means _I_ am able to be with whoever I want. Had Tristane been around when he was alive, she'd be promised to a pureblood male. I myself was promised to Pansy, even though the both of us have no romantic interest with each other."

"Oh really? One would've thought you and Parkinson were an item out of your own will," Ginny remarked drily.

"We're childhood friends, that's all," Draco waved it off. "Besides, she's been pining for Theo since forever. Anyway, my point is, I personally do not care, but my mother does care. Since you are the child of prophecy and all, cousin." He looked at his pocket watch and stood. "Sorry I can't stay longer, I've got to go before mother decides to come to drag me to some meeting I have no interest in. I placed your presents there," he pointed at the couch, "and make sure you enjoy yourselves, alright? Get some rest, cousin, you look horrible." He dodged a fluffy pillow. "My advice is: keep your relationship a secret until you have full power with your whole estates. Mother is still a Black, after all, and she can be cruel if she feels necessary. Merry Christmas, ladies."

They were silent for a moment, watching Draco exiting the room. Ginny rested her head against Tristane's, breathing in the lilac the redhead favoured so much.

"Gin, is it alright if I fall back asleep again? I'm still exhausted," whispered Tristane.

"Of course it's alright, Tris," Ginny kissed the top of Tristane's head.

"If you need to get out of bed, just make sure that you return, alright?" Tristane mumbled.

"I will."

Ginny felt the one-eyed witch's breathing slowed to a steady rhythm. She glanced at the clock and decided it was way too early for any respectable student on holiday to be up and about. She closed her eyes and let sleep claimed her as well.

* * *

The nibbling was gentle at first, starting from her ear. It was a ticklish sensation, but it was not bothersome enough for Ginny to wake up. But then, the nibbling became persistent and turned to pain. Not only on her ear, but her forehead and feet as well. Grumpily, Ginny forced herself to walk away from a nice dream of Quidditch and opened her eyes.

A curious-looking brown owl was perched atop Tristane' head, pecking Ginny's forehead. The redhead pushed the offending owl not so gently away, startling the bird. The movement startled a few other owls as well, who decided to nibble and peck at Ginny's ear and feet. It was a good thing none of them woke Tristane, or else Ginny would be pissed and there might be some honey roasted owls in the menu for dinner tonight.

Ginny Accio-ed some owl treats and whispered threateningly at the birds, "Come here one at a time. If you wake up the lady I will hex you."

The owls hooted unhappily but did as instructed, coming one at a time to deliver their letters and parcels, ate some treats, and then took off. Ginny checked the letters and was relieved there were no Howlers. She was certain her mother was still upset with her and was afraid to receive Howlers as a Christmas gift. She set the parcels aside, wanting to open them together with Tristane later on. She opened the first letter – she recognized Hermione's small, neat, and tidy writing.

 _Hey Gin,_

 _Merry Christmas! How's your holiday going? I hope things between you and your Pirate improves. You're the witch all the boys want, so if you haven't kissed Tristane yet by the time I come over, I will be very disappointed with you and you'll be in trouble, young lady. Anyway, you won't believe this – Narcissa gave us a Christmas present! I was so shocked when I opened it this morning. I mean, Draco giving a present is one thing, but his mother?_

Ginny's eyebrows rose. That was an interesting development.

 _Narcissa gave my parents a bottle of expensive goblin mead and gave me this beautiful silver dress which I think I'm meant to wear for Tristane's party. My parents now can't stop going on and on about how smart I am with my choice for a boyfriend. They won't listen that the blondie is not my boyfriend. I give up trying._

 _It feels weird not spending Christmas at the Burrows, but with the present circumstances, I don't think I am welcomed there. I'm sorry that you can't spend time with your family, Gin. I do miss your family. They're just like my own family. Hang in there, alright?_

Ginny felt a pang of sadness. She took a deep breath and continued reading, not wanting to dwell on sad thoughts.

 _Anyway, I can't wait to see you both again soon! Send my regards to your lady *wink*._

 _Love,_

 _Hermione._

Ginny grinned and set the letter aside. Hermione would demand the full story once she knew that Ginny's situation with Tristane was better than mere improvement. She took the next letter and recognized Harry's messy scrawl. There were two parchments in the envelope, one for her and the other for Tristane. She read the one addressed to her.

 _Hi Gin,_

 _Merry Christmas. I heard from my colleague that you are staying over at the Blacks' place for the holidays. I think it is a smart decision – your friend will be protected better that way. We placed several Aurors nearby and Kingsley told me the Unspeakables went over Tristane's place last week to help fortify the spells and barriers. I'm still surprised the Ministry is taking this matter very seriously and I still can't believe I'm part of a special task force handling the case. I'm sure there are things they are not telling me and I intend to find out. I'll tell you guys about it once I figure it out._

 _I think you've noticed I placed two parchments in the envelope. The other one is for your friend. We managed to trace her grandmother, uncovered who her mother was, and figured out how her father died. I don't know how she will take it, but prepare to console her. Unfortunately, we're still investigating who wants her dead and the motives for it._

 _I sometimes wished I'm back in school. Working is exhausting and as an Auror, I don't get much time off, especially when I'm assigned on a huge case like this. I know I shouldn't complain, that I'm lucky I am alive and able to have my own life but still, I miss my bed. I even miss Ron and Hermione's incessant bickering. And I miss you as well, Gin. As my friend._

 _Well, I've got to get back to work – we're spying on a group we suspect to be recruiters for the assassins. Take care of yourself (and your friend as well) and enjoy the holidays!_

 _Yours,_

 _Harry._

Ginny smiled sadly. She knew Harry wanted to sign it with 'Love' but he would not want to give the wrong message. He was a good man, but they were not meant for each other. The third letter, surprisingly, was from George and Percy. That was a first – the two brothers, incompatible with each other, were writing a letter together. Ginny swore she would frame it and make it a shrine or something.

 _Merry Christmas Gin-dork!_

Ginny hated that nickname. She once confided it to Daphne and the witch started using it. Ugh.

 _So before you die of heart-attack, Perce and I flipped a coin and I won. I'm writing this, but he gives his pompous inputs (he just ribbed me when I wrote that haha). We were thinking of surprising you at Hogwarts today, to cheer you up, but Fleur told us you're staying over at your hot girlfriend's home. Can you ask her whether she has any sisters hidden in some parts of the world? If yes, get me a date! (There goes Percy and his elbow again. I'll be in St. Mungo's if this keeps up)._

 _Mum is still angry at you. She doesn't even knit you a jumper! I admire your courage to be able to make her that angry haha. Dad's cooling down though. He wants to meet you and talk to you about things, but mum refuses to allow him to do that, claiming he's always too soft on you. She has this theory that you're just coping with the trauma of the war that's why you ditched Harry and dates a 'scarlet woman' (her words, not mine). Ron's being a dick, blaming Fleur for not taking action. I think he's just jealous 'cause you have a hot girlfriend and he is still single. He still thinks Hermione is his and swears vengeance on Ferret Boy. He's getting annoying, but Perce won't let me hex him to oblivion (Mister Ministry Man is trying to give me a death stare now)._

 _Percy wants to lecture you about the virtues of waiting until marriage, but I think he can just write a letter himself if he really wants. I don't want to waste a piece of good parchment for such nonsense. Anyway, since mum's not giving you a jumper, Perce and I team up to get you one. And your beloved, of course. I hope you both like our gifts! Send our regards to your lady friend._

 _Love,_

 _Percy & Georgie._

 _P.S.: While Percy is not looking here, let me tell you this – I'm giving you an extra Christmas gift. I think you'll find it extremely useful. You grow up so fast, it touches my heart *sniff*_

Ginny eyed at the parcel. Should she open it? But nah, she did say she would open them together with Tristane later. The last letter was from Bill and Fleur.

 _Dear Ginny,_

 _Merry Christmas! We hope you are enjoying yourself at Miss Black's place. We wish you are right here for Christmas, but we understand your current situation. Bill is trying to get your mother to calm down but unfortunately she is too stubborn. We will be returning to Shell Cottage tomorrow, as your mother is unhappy with us (well, me basically, not with Bill) for accepting the invitation to attend Miss Black's ball. Do not worry, I will certainly be there for the ball and see the both of you. Send our regards to Miss Black and do look out for her._

 _Love,_

 _Bill & Fleur_

Tristane stirred.

"You're popular," she stated sleepily.

"Just letters from Hermione, Harry, my brothers and Fleur," Ginny kissed the top of Tristane's head lightly. "How are you feeling?"

"Mmmm better," the one-eyed witch stretched and yawned. She looked at Ginny lazily. "You make me feel better."

"I can make you feel fantastic," Ginny said huskily and winked, making Tristane blushed and looked away. The Slytherin noticed parcels and gifts on the couch.

"Presents!" she exclaimed excitedly. She lithely jumped out of bed and dragged Ginny to the couch, who brought the rest of the parcels with her. "I've never seen so many presents in my life! Every year I only get one."

Ginny chuckled and sat next to the excited witch.

"Wait – let's start from our presents for each other," Tristane suggested. She handed Ginny a huge, square box wrapped in green.

Ginny was surprised – she was not expecting Tristane to prepare a present for her. After all, they were not on good terms until early this morning. Ginny tore the wrapper (she could not stand unwrapping gifts slowly and neatly – it was maddening) and opened the box. There was a beautiful black dress and a set of pearl accessories to go with it. She looked at Tristane who was eyeing her carefully, looking worried.

"Do you like it? I hope you'll wear them for the ball."

Ginny looked back at the box' contents and suddenly felt conscious of her gift for Tristane which the Slytherin was yet to open. Ginny wished she had given Tristane something else.

"I love it, it's beautiful," she managed. Tristane gave her a shy smile. "I'll wear them to the ball for sure. Thank you, Tristane."

It was Tristane's turn to open her present given by Ginny – a book on spell casting for children.

"It's uh… I thought it'll help you by starting from very simple things that wizarding kids learn before we go to school," Ginny explained, anxious. Would Tristane be disappointed with such a simple gift? Ginny felt like kicking herself. How was she expecting herself to win Tristane's heart by giving stupid presents?

But Tristane hugged her and squealed in delight.

"It's fantastic, Ginny, thank you! Maybe this way I can get the hang of casting spells."

Ginny was relieved.

They opened the rest of their presents: George and Percy gave each of them a cool dragon-leather jacket; George gave them an extra present without Percy knowing – a book on Kamasutra (he included a note saying 'put your athletic stamina to good use, sister' which caused both witches to blush furiously); Hermione gave Ginny a signed autograph of Gwenog Jones (she asked Krum for his help) and Tristane a book titled _The Blacks: A Line of Purity_ ; Luna gave them (without any note or letter) a set of sexy lingerie each (Tristane giggled shyly at that and Ginny burst out laughing – trust Luna to have a sixth sense of things); Draco gave Ginny a set of broomstick maintenance kit and Tristane a pair of diamond earrings (Ginny felt terrible – she did not give the prat any gift); Pansy, Theo, and Blaise decided to send their gifts in one box – a set of sex toys ('What's up with people giving us sex-related stuff?' Tristane wondered aloud. Ginny had no idea how to answer her); Narcissa gave Ginny a huge tin of homemade cookies with a note 'please give a few to my niece' and Tristane a pair of silver heels.

"Look, there's a letter from Aunt Cissa," Tristane took out a parchment from the box. She read aloud, "Merry Christmas to the both of you. I hope you are enjoying your day. I am sorry I am unable to accompany you today, but I will be coming to help for both your coming-of-age ritual as well as the final preparations for your ball. I will come early morning on the twenty-seventh, so please be ready. Miss Weasley, as you are a pureblood, your assistance for the ritual will be greatly appreciated. Until then, relax and enjoy yourselves. Love, Aunt Cissa."

Tristane folded the letter and put it aside carefully. "That sounds pretty serious," she remarked.

"Oh, I've nearly forgotten, here – a letter from Harry," Ginny handed her the parchment.

Ginny watched Tristane reading the letter, the latter's facial expression turned somber as she read on.

"Well, at least now I know that my mother and grandmother were never forced to conceive," Tristane finally said upon finishing reading the letter. "They're both Muggles apparently. Do you think Aunt Cissa will kick me out if she knows I'm not a pureblood?"

Ginny took Tristane's hand in hers.

"I don't know," the redhead said honestly. "I don't think it should matter, but knowing how purebloods tend to be, this may affect your relationship with your family."

Tristane sighed and leaned on Ginny.

"I won't tell them just yet," she decided. "Maybe one day in the future I will. I've just got a family and I don't want to lose them so soon."

Ginny squeezed her hand in encouragement.

"Let's get you some breakfast, shall we? You still look tired even though you've improved," Ginny commented.

Tristane nodded and allowed herself to be dragged out of the room. They spent the rest of the day napping and lazing around, mostly, cuddling in Ginny's bed. Ginny felt it was the best Christmas ever.


	23. Chapter 23

It was nearly three hours into the ball and yet Tristane had not managed to extricate herself from her aunt's grip. She caught glimpses of Ginny but had not been able to talk to the redhead and it was driving her mad. Ginny looked gorgeous in her dress and Tristane wanted nothing but to appreciate the beauty without interruptions. But she could not yet. In addition, she was tired from the morning's coming-of-age ritual. Tristane was cranky and she wished she had her late aunt's insanity to just kick people out of the house.

But unfortunately, Tristane had to smile and chat with people she was sure she would never see again, and be the perfect Black lady, immaculate and patient, with a touch of gentleness. She had no idea what Aunt Cissa meant by those, but she just went along with it. At the moment, Aunt Cissa was introducing her to three brothers, originating from someplace. Tristane tried to pay attention and remember details, but she just could not be bothered. She knew the three brothers were among her future suitors, trying to get their hands on the Black wealth. She felt disgusted with herself, portraying herself as an eligible bachelorette while behind the safety of shadows she was in a relationship with someone.

Aunt Cissa was playing the perfect hostess, making everyone felt comfortable and got the conversation flowing. Tristane had perfected the art of nodding and smiling at the right moments without paying attention to what was going on. Without warning, Tristane felt a slight buzz in her head and some memories from her past played in her mind. She kept her expression steady and carefully glanced around, looking for the culprit who was trying to read her mind. Aunt Cissa and the three brothers were into the conversation, so they could not be the ones. There were some people who were observing her, but there was not telling who the culprit was. Draco had warned her earlier that there might be people who would try to enter her mind, to gauge her strength. He tried to teach her to clear her mind when that happened. She was not ready to learn Occlumency yet.

The attacker was clumsy enough for Tristane to realize what was happening. But who could it be and what was the motive? Tristane felt fear – was someone trying to conquer her mind and destroy the Black family? Were the Blacks significant enough in whatever game the pureblood society was playing to warrant this behaviour?

 _Hey Muzkon, sorry to disturb you, but can you help me for a bit?_ Tristane hoped Muzkon was awake enough to hear her mind.

 _How can I help you, lass?_ The demon asked pleasantly.

 _Um… I think someone's trying to read my mind and I don't know how to defend against it. Can you help me?_

Tristane could feel Muzkon frowning. How would the demon frown? She had never even seen him frowning.

 _Are you sure you want my help? It'll be tiring for you – you haven't increased your magical strengths. Why don't you ask your aunt or cousin for help instead?_

 _If I do that, the attacker might be alerted and then the person or the group will know how weak I actually am. Please, Muzkon, I will be fine. If I'm exhausted I can always sleep the entire day tomorrow._

The demon waited several moments before coming to a decision.

 _Alright, but remember that you_ will _be tired and since I am awoken, I will be able to see what you see, and hear what you hear._

Tristane hesitated. Did she want Muzkon to know whatever was going on in her life? But the threat of the attacker succeeding the next attempt was looming.

 _I understand, but please don't judge my life_. Why was she worried about a demon's opinions on her?

Muzkon laughed. The lilting sound reverberated in her mind.

 _I've never heard of a human who actually care of what I think_ , he chuckled. _Don't worry, Tristane Black, I am your ally._

Tristane did not comment on that. Having a demon, an unknown one at that, did not seem to be a good ally. But at least for the time being he was useful. Feeling slightly relieved, she refocused to the conversation at hand. Tristane wondered how many other people her aunt felt were necessary to be introduced to. The massive ballroom was packed with people. Draco had commented earlier on that the only reason why people were keen to attend the Black's ball was due to the presence of Kingsley, Harry, Hermione, Neville, and McGonagall. Nobody wanted to be associated with a fallen house prominently close to another fallen name – the Malfoys. Narcissa had taken advantage of the situation, inviting as many important people as she could, including witches and wizards from Yemen.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Draco's voice boomed around the ballroom. Tristane turned to his direction, watching her cousin standing in the middle of the dance floor, smirking arrogantly. "It is now time for the new lady of the Black house, Lady Tristane Black, to have her first dance."

Tristane glanced around the hall – there were many men who were trying to get her attention. She caught Ginny looking at her with an unreadable expression across the hall and gave the redhead a reassuring smile. This first dance was crucial – it signified the house that the Blacks would be closely aligned with, and may even result in a future marriage. Aunt Cissa had lectured her the whole morning of who would be the best men to have her first dance with, but Tristane had no desire for that. But she realized she could not have it with Ginny either – that would be too obvious and would create too many complications.

Tristane confidently crossed the room, her green dress augmented her curves. She could feel hundreds of pair of eyes following her movement, holding their breaths, watching who she would choose. Tristane stopped in front of Draco and smirked, whispers broke throughout the hall. Her cousin raised an eyebrow but complied. He bowed then took her hand in his. They danced.

"You're playing a dangerous game, cousin," he murmured, leading the steps. All eyes were on them.

"I know," she whispered back. "But I have no other way of telling people that I'm taken. At least this way the Malfoys will rise alongside the Blacks."

Draco chuckled. "Mother would be disappointed. She felt this is the best time for you to pick your husband."

Tristane resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"My life, my rules."

When their dance was over, Tristane went over to her aunt.

"Aunt Cissa, dance with me?" she gave her aunt an innocent smile.

Her aunt pursed her lips, but danced with her nevertheless. Narcissa Malfoy was not fooled – she could see through Tristane's ploy.

"My dear niece, it would be most helpful to your cause if you declare an interest in one man tonight, where all favoured and adored are here to lend influence to you," her aunt's tone brooked no argument.

"I am the Lady Black, Aunt Cissa," Tristane said firmly. "I am grateful for your help and advice, but I make my own decisions."

Her aunt said nothing, clearly displeased. Tristane would not budge either.

When Tristane asked Andromeda to dance with her next, Narcissa just observed with an expressionless face. Andromeda was shocked but did not question it. Tristane felt it was the best way to announce to the world that she, as the head of the Black household, welcomed Andromeda back to the fold. It seemed that Andromeda understood, for her eyes were misty. She gave Tristane a tight hug when their dance was over and whispered a thank you. In reply, the one-eyed witch murmured, "Welcome home, Aunt Andromeda." Tristane hoped that someday, the two sisters would be able to reconcile and mend their relationship. But for the time being, Tristane avoided Narcissa's eyes, not wanting to feel her wrath.

When Tristane went over to Hermione, the crowd knew that the new Lady Black had no intention of announcing any marriages or alliances that night. Many were displeased, but Tristane was relieved – people could keep on guessing and she could keep on hiding away.

After Hermione was Blaise, then Pansy, Neville, and Theo. Tristane spotted Daphne and dragged her to the dance floor, apologizing to the witch for what happened between her and Ginny.

"Look, Tris, you're my friend and it's not your fault," Daphne seemed amused. "Heartbreaks are a given in any relationship. Just help me get a dance with Potter, and we're even."

Tristane glanced around and spotted Harry, who was dancing with Luna.

"Deal."

Tristane maneuvered across the dance floor and managed to switch dance partner with Harry. Luna was dancing with her now, seemingly happy with the change. Daphne winked at Tristane and led an uncomfortable-looking Harry away.

After exhausting her list of non-threatening dance partners, Tristane went over to Ginny, who had been standing in a corner moodily, chugging glass after glass of champagne.

"What, no other people who'd dance with you?" Ginny's expression was neutral, but there was an unmistakable anger in her eyes.

"I'm sorry Gin, but I planned it this way," Tristane said softly, hoping to calm the angry Gryffindor. "Look, if I get you to dance with me earlier on, I can't disappear right away, can I? Plus, people were still watching me. Now it's safer because nobody cares anymore who I dance with. People won't pay attention and we can disappear straight away without anyone, especially Aunt Cissa, noticing."

Ginny looked away. Tristane took a step closer, taking Ginny's hands in hers.

"You're the most important person in my life, Ginny, but I can't tell the world that yet," Tristane pleaded.

Ginny sighed and finally looked into Tristane's eye.

"I know that, but I still don't like it," she mumbled. She put away her half-empty glass. "Alright then, let's dance. At least those sharks can't dance with you."

Tristane was happy - finally she could be with Ginny again. She dragged the Gryffindor to the dance floor, a pair of dancers amongst the hundreds. They waltzed past Draco and Hermione, and the brunette gave the pair a knowing smirk.

"You're so beautiful tonight," Tristane murmured in Ginny's ear.

"Of course I am. I can't lose to you now, can I?" the redhead teased her. Ginny rested her head on the taller witch's shoulder.

"You're too tall," Ginny grumbled, making Tristane smiled.

 _Do I have to suffer through this?_

Tristane held back her laughter. _Sorry, Muzkon._

Tristane glanced around, searching for Narcissa. Noticing that her aunt was busy dancing with one of the Aurors assigned to the ballroom for the evening, Tristane dragged Ginny out to the balcony and hid in an empty corner. She pushed the redhead to the wall, grabbed the Gryffindor's face between her hands, and kissed Ginny, licking and nibbling her lips.

"What's… gotten… into… you," Ginny giggled between breaths.

Tristane laughed and rested her forehead against Ginny's. She felt deliriously happy.

 _Whatever you do, please do not engage coitus, I beg of you. I really do not want to be witness to that._

 _Yes, Muzkon. I don't want you to see it either. Now please shut up._

"I miss you," Tristane whispered.

Ginny raised her hand and traced her fingers over Tristane's face.

"I miss you too. I wanted to hex all those boys taking your time. And Narcissa as well for making you talk to those people," the redhead grumbled.

Tristane ran her hand through Ginny's hair.

"We're here now, I'm with you, not them. We can skip the rest of the evening, I think my duties are completed."

They heard voices giggling and squealing nearby. Both witches looked around and saw a red-faced Hermione leading an amused-looking Draco out from the ballroom. Tristane and Ginny exchanged a glance.

"Alright there, 'Mione?" Ginny called out.

Hermione and Draco looked around for the source of voice and spotted the grinning witches obscured by the shadows.

"Wow Gin, really, you have to drag her to the balcony? Don't you have a room here or something?"

Tristane could not help laughing. Hermione looked highly intoxicated and Draco had to hold her to keep her from falling.

"At least I don't have to get her drunk to lure her to a quiet place," teased Ginny.

"We're not dating, Weaslette," Draco drawled, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, yes, blondie is right. We're not dating," Hermione slurred. "We only make out. Right, Draco?" she poked at Draco's cheek.

Draco had the grace to blush.

Tristane was going to tease his cousin but suddenly felt a sharp pain in her head.

 _Milady, someone's trying to break your mental barrier_ , warned Muzkon. _It's not something I can't handle, but if this keeps up, your strength will be gone soon. Please go someplace safe._

Tristane looked around, searching for an attacker. She gripped Ginny's hand, readying to alert the group to take cover at any moment. The sudden change in her movement was not unnoticed by both Ginny and Draco. They were instantly on alert, taking out their wands.

"Tris, what's wrong?" Ginny asked calmly, a feat for someone who had been drinking a lot.

"Drake, Apparate us to my room now," Tristane hissed urgently.

Without hesitation, Draco grabbed Tristane's hand and Apparated the four of them to her room. As they were spinning, Tristane saw a pair of hazel eyes bored into hers from one of the windows, their owner being the only person watching them in the party. He looked very familiar.

As soon as they arrived in Tristane's room, Hermione retched. The brunette seemed unable to handle Side-Along-Apparition while being intoxicated. The three of them dragged the brunette to the bathroom immediately, not wanting any accidents to happen.

"What was that just now, Tris? Should we alert the Aurors?" Draco asked, over the sounds of Hermione vomiting into the toilet bowl. Tristane helped to hold the brunette's hair while Ginny rubbed the vomiting witch's back.

"Someone was trying to get into my mind. I think I saw the person."

 _Yes you did,_ Muzkon confirmed internally. _The mind probe came from his direction but he seemed to be expecting you having high defenses. He was testing you._

"Who is that? I'm going to kill the bastard now!" Draco was on his frantic mode.

"Calm down, we're not going to take any action," Tristane rolled her eyes. Before Ginny's and Draco's horrified stares could lead into one of their long lectures, Tristan added, "If we do something right now, we can't catch the whole group and brain of the operation."

"I'm always the brain of the operation," Hermione bemoaned, her words a slur. "Those damn two good-for-nothing boys can't even pass their exams without me." She proceeded to throw up again. They wisely ignored her.

"Tristane, this person may be trying to find an opening to attack you right now and he is loose in your house. He's dangerous!" Draco was trying to make his cousin see sense.

"No, Drake, listen to me," the Blacks' infamous stubbornness came to the surface. "He wanted to test my strengths, trying to find an opening to my mind. He couldn't, thankfully. I recognize the guy, so we can tail him and investigate him. Make him think we're still clueless. Trap him."

"Wait," Ginny held up a hand, "are you saying that you want to be a bait?"

Tristane nodded. "Yes, we can catch all of them easier this way."

"Great," Ginny groaned. "Why do I always get brave idiots? I thought you being a Slytherin will at least wise enough to preserve your life."

"I have a lot of bodyguards," Tristane protested.

"I don't like it but I can see your point," Draco interjected. "But who is the guy?"

"I don't remember his name but I've seen him in Hogwarts. He's in Hufflepuff. A fifth or sixth year, I think," Tristane tried to remember the details. Ginny and Draco exchanged a glance: they were right – a student was involved in Tristane's accidents. "He has hazel eyes, jet black hair, quite tall, average body built."

"You just described nearly everyone in that house," Draco remarked drily.

"He must be a pureblood because Narcissa invited him here," Ginny observed. "You should know him, Ferret. You're the walking pureblood encyclopedia."

"Aunt Cissa did introduce me to his family just now," Tristane crunched her face, trying to remember. "There were too many people, I don't remember his family name. Shit. Uh… He has a younger sister, also in Hufflepuff. A second year, I think. Oh wait, I've seen that boy making out with Sal's sister!"

"Who?" Ginny asked, confused.

"Salamander's our Beater," Draco explained. "That means nothing, Tris. Sylvia is quite promiscuous."

Tristane groaned. "Hmmm… Oh, I remember something! Aunt Cissa was saying that his grandfather or great-grandfather was the Minister of Magic during some evil guy's reign. Grindelock or something."

Draco's eyes were wide opened.

"Fawley," he breathed in realization. "It's the Fawleys! But why? What would they achieve?"

"Stop muttering to yourself and explain to us ignorant peasants," grumbled Ginny.

"The boy who tried to attack your mind must be Sullivan Fawley, Tris. His great-grandfather, Hector, was the Minister during Grindelwald's reign of terror. The Fawleys have always been with the light side, so maybe they view you as a threat to the world or something. But they're never vicious or sneaky. I mean, Hector couldn't even deal with Grindelwald to the point he had to resign in shame. I need to tell my mother. Don't go anywhere and Weaslette, don't open the door to strangers."

"I'm not a child, you ass!" Ginny called out after Draco's disappearing back. "Wait, why doesn't he just Disapparated instead of running around?"

"Nobody can do it unless I give my express permission," Tristane explained. She looked at the now quiet Hermione, looking sleepy. "Shall we get her to bed and clean her up?"

Ginny gently carried Hermione to Tristane's bed. The redhead was thankful that she was athletic - it was very useful for such occasion.

"You're really strong, Gin," Tristane commented, following the redhead from behind.

"I know you like it," the redhead winked at Tristane, who blushed. Ginny loved teasing Tristane – the one-eyed witch was such an easy target.

 _I think you're quite safe now, lass. I shall take my leave before your strength is drained. You may need all of your strength for your lady before the night ends. Wake me when danger arises, alright?_

 _Uh thanks Muzkon_. Tristane felt herself blushing further at Muzkon's words. Fortunately, Ginny was busy muttering spells to clean her best friend and tucking her in. The redhead was merciless when it came to teasing. Growing up with six brothers would do that to anyone, one would suppose.

The door then opened and a barrage of people streamed in: Draco, Narcissa, Andromeda, Fleur, Mysterio, Harry, Kingsley, Blaise, Pansy, McGonagall, Luna, and Lewis.

"Uh… why are there so many of you?" Ginny asked, rather surprised. Tristane silently agreed with her.

Without waiting for invitation, the group settled themselves at the sofas. Ginny and Tristane joined them after ensuring the sleeping Hermione was comfortable.

"Is Miss Granger alright?" McGonagall asked, holding a cup of tea. Narcissa had subtly conjured tea and biscuits out of nowhere and was distributing the cups to everyone in the room save for Hermione.

"She is alright, Headmistress, just drank a tad bit too much," Tristane replied, trying hard to control herself from leaning against Ginny and taking the redhead's hand in hers. Merlin, it was difficult.

"Draco, what have I told you about not taking advantage of intoxicated witches?"

"But mother! I didn't do anything to her!"

"You have to protect both of your virtues, Draco. Do you not remember the lessons I taught you?" Narcissa was on a roll.

"Setting his questionable virtues aside, what's going on? You insisted us to follow you without telling us anything, Malfoy," Harry interjected before the conversation steered away even further.

Everybody looked at Draco expectantly.

"Well, Tristane felt someone was trying to enter her mind," he began. "She recognized the attacker and we know who it is – a Hogwarts student."

"Get to the point, Drake. Don't start your dramatic oration," Blaise grumbled, to which Draco rolled his eyes. The teenagers sniggered.

"How unfortunate that I am the only matured one here," Draco said haughtily. Tristane smacked his arm and got an evil glare in return. "As I was saying, my prat of a cousin – sorry mother," Narcissa had given him a pointed look, " – was sort of being attacked by a Hogwarts boy. His name is Sullivan Fawley, a sixth year Hufflepuff."

There was a murmur.

"Are you certain? Mr. Fawley has a good track record and has never even received any detention," McGonagall was skeptical.

"Yes I am," Tristane nodded. "I don't know what his motives are, though. I can't explain, but I know it's him."

"Does this Fawley happen to be related to Hector Fawley, a former Minister of Magic?" Andromeda asked. Narcissa stared at her sister with bulging eyes.

"Andy, are suggesting what I am thinking?"

It was the first time Narcissa used her sister's nickname while talking to her since Andromeda ran away with her late husband. Andromeda kept her face impassive. Everybody watched the two sisters, sensing that something significant was at play.

"Do you remember the stories father used to tell us?" Andromeda asked.

Narcissa nodded, publicly acknowledging that she and Andromeda shared the same parentage. Tristane could feel Draco tensing up next to her and held his hand. She wished she could hold Ginny's hand but she did not want to risk any suspicion, no matter how slight.

"Our father, Cygnus, had a best friend named Patrick Fawley, the son of Hector Fawley," Narcissa explained to the rest of the room. The significance of the usage of 'our' was not lost on everyone. This could be a start to reconciliation.

"Father used to tell us stories of Patrick when we were small," Andromeda continued. "They were polar opposites but somehow managed to get along well with each other. The Fawleys moved to South America once Hector resigned but Cygnus still kept in touch with Patrick."

"I remember while growing up father used to bring us to visit Patrick at least once a year," Narcissa reminisced. "Beautiful beaches, terrific weather, delicious food… it was a great time for any teenage girl. There were plenty of handsome boys for us to observe as well."

Draco cleared his throat – he did not want to know anything about his mother's and aunt's sexual escapades.

"I remember Patrick was a staunch believer in blood purity, just like father. But he hated Voldemort ever since Voldemort commanded Bella to marry Rod," Andromeda said softly, her face sad. The memory was a painful one for her, it seemed.

"Yes," Narcissa agreed, "the Dark Lord at that time was still relatively unknown and was still trying to gain power and influence. He somehow managed to captivate father and Bella, and convinced poor Bella to marry Rod. Because of Rod, Bella turned insane."

"Why was Patrick against Aunt Bella's marriage?" Draco was curious. This was a story he never knew.

"Patrick wanted to strengthen the bond between the Blacks and the Fawleys," Narcissa explained. "And Bella was his favourite – she was intelligent, bright, and curious, and Patrick prided himself as a scholar. He wanted Bella to be married to his son. But the Dark Lord persuaded father to change his mind. Bella was already starting to get attached to the Dark Lord and happily obeyed, even though she loathed Rod."

"Patrick was really bitter about that," Andromeda remembered. "He refused to do anything with Voldemort and his Death Eaters, even though Patrick was a staunch believer in blood purity."

"I still don't see why Fawley would want to hurt Tristane," Harry spoke up.

Everyone was silent.

"Well, it's a job for your team, Lewis," Kingsley said softly. Lewis and Harry nodded in understanding. "Investigate the Fawleys thoroughly – don't leave any stone unturned." Kingsley turned to Tristane, Draco, and Ginny. "I know the three of you must be very curious about young Fawley but I do not want any of you, including Miss Granger, to do anything that may alert Mr. Fawley, including sneaking around late at night. Understand?" The three of them exchanged glances and unhappily nodded. Kingsley then turned to Luna, Blaise, and Pansy. "I believe the three of you have better chances of success to investigate both Fawley siblings."

"I've always wondered how difficult it is to seduce a man," Luna commented. Tristane and Ginny burst out laughing. As usual, everybody ignored Luna's odd comment.

"We'll do our best, Minister," Pansy spoke for the three of them. Kingsley nodded in satisfaction.

"In the mean time, carry on your usual daily student lives," the Minister of Magic advised. "Be vigilant, but don't let this problem get to your heads."

The students nodded.

"I think it's best for me to return to the party before anyone noticed I'm missing," Narcissa rose and excused herself. One by one, the rest followed, leaving Tristane, Ginny, and Draco (plus the now snoring Hermione) in the room.

Tristane rested her head on Ginny's lap, sighing. "I'm exhausted," she murmured. Ginny ran her hand through Tristane's wavy black hair gently, massaging her scalp in the process. Draco watched them, his face unreadable. He decided to pull Tristane's legs up and rested them on his lap, and massaged her feet.

"Are you afraid to lose or something, Ferret?" Ginny was amused.

"Between a handsome guy like me and a terrible kisser like you, I win by default," Draco stated arrogantly.

"Hey, she's a damn good kisser!" Tristane protested, her eye closed, enjoying the massage.

Ginny guffawed. "I'm an excellent lover, Ferret-boy," the redhead smirked. "Would you like to hear the details?"

"No, no, I want my sanity intact, thank you," Draco shook his head and shuddered. There was no way he would want to know intimate details of his own cousin's relationship. That would be a hellish nightmare.

They were silent and Tristane nearly fell asleep when Ginny asked softly, "What are you going to do about 'Mione, Ferret?"

Draco replied light-heartedly, "I think it's best to just let her sleep. Or would you prefer me to move her to her room?"

Tristane gently poked his ribs with her toe. "Don't be a moron. Answer the question."

Draco grunted, rubbing his ribs. "Explain what you mean then."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Are you going to date her? What is this relationship you both are having? How do you feel about her? Are you just using her or something? 'Cause if you are, I won't forgive you and even though you are Tristane's cousin, I won't hesitate hexing you to oblivion."

Draco was quiet for a moment before answering. "I don't know," he confessed. "I'm not sure what I should do. Right now, what we're doing… there's no pressure for anything, you know? No commitment or whatever. We're just us. Friends. I guess."

"You guess?" Ginny repeated, her tone harsh. Tristane took Ginny's hand and kissed it, trying to calm the redhead.

"As I said, I'm not sure, Weaslette," he sighed, leaning his head against the sofa. "I don't know who I am anymore. My whole life was planned out for me, from the way I carry myself to the thoughts I must think. And now, suddenly, I actually can decide my life without being threatened I will lose my inheritance and connection to my mother if I step out of line. I was groomed to take over from my father and be the Dark Lord's next lieutenant or something along the line. I was supposed to get engaged this year to Pansy, get married next year, and produce an heir within three years of marriage. Now, I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore."

"Then what the fuck are you doing with 'Mione?" Ginny sounded dangerously close to hex Draco.

"Drake, Hermione's passed out. She won't hear us. Go on, tell us," Tristane coaxed her cousin, wishing he would be brave enough to face his fears rather than risking an altercation with her girlfriend.

"I'm comfortable with her, alright?" his voice sounded strained. He ran his hand through his head. "I… I find her invigorating. I've done so many terrible things to her in the past, yet she's willing to look at me in the eyes and treat me as her equal. She trusts me enough to sleep on the couch in our quarters without putting up shields to protect herself from me, even though I did hurt her in the past. I find myself drawn to her despite wishing she would just hate me and go far away from me. I don't deserve her – she deserves much better. I'm trying my best to treat her well, to make up for all I've done to her."

"You know, nobody ever deserves anyone," Tristane said softly.

"I don't get you, cousin."

"How many of people actually feel their partners deserve them? That they are the best for their partners? I'm sure everyone has their doubts. I myself have my own doubts, but that is good, isn't it? It makes me want to improve, want to be a better person so that I can stand proudly and proclaim that Ginny deserves me." Ginny leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead.

Draco looked thoughtful.

"For fuck's sake, you both have been locking lips and acting like a disgusting couple since forever," Tristane poked her cousin's ribs again, to Draco's protests. "Considering she's not the kind who'd do reckless and stupid stuff, don't you think you actually mean something to her for her to be quite intimate with you? Don't you want her?"

"You used to be an annoying git, but now you've improved a lot," Ginny commented. "I can see that you make her happy, you prat. She saved your life, even though you left her to die. When are you going to save her?"

"Save her? She's not in danger."

"Everyone needs saving from something, Drake," Tristane was exasperated at her cousin's seeming idiocy. "Hermione needs saving as well. You have to figure it out – you're not that dumb. Look, I'm exhausted and for some reason I'm getting irritated by your refusal of acknowledging your feelings and being brave enough to do something about it, so do me a favour: stay here for the night, look after Hermione, and open up to her. Don't you dare to come down for breakfast tomorrow until you confess to her. Let's go, Ginny. I'm sleepy."

Draco was left alone speechless. He glanced at the sleeping figure on the bed – what kind of crazy task was this? He sighed. He was certain that Tristane was insulting him somehow. To open up, huh. To lay everything bare and hand over power to another person. Tristane must be crazy. He was a Malfoy and Malfoys should never hand over power to another. But Tristane's question kept on repeating itself in his mind: did he want her?


	24. Chapter 24

"Tris, do you think you were being a tad bit too harsh on your cousin?"

Tristane, who was on the brink of falling asleep, calling all her senses to return. Ginny was snuggling against her, resting her head on Tristane's chest. Tristane could feel Ginny's finger tracing her arm idly. Tristane took a deep breath, taking in Ginny's scent. The one-eyed witch smiled, she was happy.

Still closing her eye, Tristane mumbled, "Maybe, but he needs a gentle push."

Ginny tilted her head and kissed Tristane's jaw lightly, bringing another smile to the one-eyed witch's face. Ginny then rested her head again and her steady breathing brought Tristane to the edge of Dream Land. Ginny seemed to sense this and, grinning mischievously, she left a trail of kisses along Tristane's neck, causing the one-eyed witch to groan and pulled back from the gates of Dream Land. Ginny then rested her head again on Tristane's chest, feeling accomplished.

"Gin, please let me sleep, I'm exhausted," Tristane pleaded.

Ginny giggled.

"Alright, birthday girl," the redhead took pity on her lover, "I will try my best to stop teasing you. It's not my fault that you're irresistible."

Tristane kissed the top of Ginny's head.

"I heard that we Blacks are charming," she murmured.

Ginny held her tightly in her arms.

"Sleep well, Tris."

"I'll see you in my dreams, Gin."

The tawny owl landed gracefully on the large bed next to the mess of entwining black and red hair. It hooted in displeasure, impatient to return to its sender. Its task, after all, was to deliver the letter as quickly as possible. It tilted its head, pondering the best course of action. Judging from the sleeping figure's age, she would not wake up willingly before the dawn broke. The owl hopped on to the girl's shoulder and pecked at her ear, gentle enough so as to not hurt her, but hard enough to make its presence known.

A hand waved at it, trying to swat the tawny owl away. It hooted indignantly and stretched its leg carrying a letter to the girl's face. The redhead opened her eyes and groaned but took the proffered letter.

"Owl treats are on that table," she grumbled.

The owl hooted. Magical children were becoming ruder by the day. There was not even a word of thanks! The tawny owl hooted disapprovingly and flew to the table holding the bowl of owl treats.

The redhead gave the owl an evil stare and wished it a most unpleasant return journey as it flew out of the window.

"I wish you'd stare at me as intensely as you're staring that owl," Tristane nudged Ginny.

"Ah, forgive me for my momentary lapse of judgment," Ginny swooped down and gave Tristane a long kiss.

"Who's it from?" Tristane was snuggled against Ginny's chest.

The redhead read the letter quickly, her face scrunched up.

"It's… my parents apologising for their behaviour and are asking me to go home," Ginny said, sounding uncertain. "They'd like to talk with me face to face about this whole thing and want to try to understand me better."

Tristane brushed a strand of hair from Ginny's face.

"That sounds good, isn't it?" she asked softly. "It's your chance to reconcile with them and get them to understand you better, Gin."

Ginny looked into Tristane's eye, feeling uncertain.

"But… I don't know if I want that."

Tristane sat and took Ginny's face in her hands.

"Gin," the one-eyed witch said gently, "I know you're still angry at them at the moment. But everyone makes mistakes, including your parents. Now they've realized their mistakes and they want to make things right with you again. Don't let this chance go to waste, Gin. On the bright side, you can tell them how angry and hurt you feel face to face."

Ginny was quiet for a while, making a decision.

"But I don't want to leave you so soon…"

Tristane chuckled and kissed the tip of Ginny's nose lightly.

"We'll see each other again in the castle in a few days' time, Gin," she reassured the redhead. "You're just being a dramatic baby, aren't you? We have owls, and you can apparate here anytime you want – I've set up the wards to recognize you. I'll miss you but it won't be for a long time, my dear."

Ginny hugged Tristane.

"There's Draco, Hermione, and a bunch of Aurors to make sure I am safe," Tristane continued. "Go to your family, Gin, they must've missed you so much."

Ginny nodded and released her hug.

"I'll leave my things here, if it's okay with you? It's just that I'd like to return here in a couple of days so that we can travel back to Howarts together. I'll just use my old stuff at my house."

Tristane grinned.

"Someone's getting overly attached. How cute."

Tristane grunted in pain when Ginny swatted her.

"Don't make me regret getting attached to you, Captain Hook," Ginny climbed down the bed and walked toward the bathroom. "I might be unable to leave you out of my sight at all."

Ginny knocked on the door twice and waited. While it was still her home, she felt rather awkward to just Apparate inside the house due to her recent disagreement with her parents. She looked around and took in the view, feeling at ease that nothing seemed to have changed. The only thing that worried her was the lack of noise in the usually bustling building. Had something happened? 

Before she could ponder that thought, the door opened, revealing a hopeful-looking Molly Weasley.

"Hi mum," Ginny shifted awkwardly on her legs.

"Ginny! I've missed you!" Molly crushed her only daughter in her signature Weasley matriarch bear-style hug.

"Mum… I'm dying," Ginny managed to croak out.

Molly released her and took her hand, pulling Ginny into the house.

"I wasn't expecting you to come so soon, I thought you'd still be angry at us," Molly confessed, ushering her daughter to the kitchen, where her husband was stirring the pot. He turned to them and a smile broke on his tired face.

"Welcome home, Ginny," he walked to her and gave her a hug.

"Hi dad," she whispered, on the verge of tears. Her parents were not angry at her anymore. They welcomed her with opened arms. She hugged him tight.

"Would you like some tea, honey?" Molly asked, busying herself in the small kitchen.

"Yes please, mum."

Arthur led Ginny to the kitchen table and they both took a seat facing each other, just like how they usually did when it was just the three of them at home. While Molly made breakfast, Arthur told Ginny funny stories that happened during the Weasleys' Christmas gathering.

Noticing Ginny's sad face, Arthur quickly held his daughter's hands and said, "I'm sorry you couldn't be there with us. It was our fault, so don't blame yourself for it, alright? Next year we'll do a grand one to compensate it."

Molly placed food in front of them and added, "You can even bring that Black girl and Malfoy boy if you like."

Ginny's eyebrows rose in surprise. She looked at her mother with her jaw hanging off. Molly saw that and rolled her eyes.

"For Merlin's sake, have I not taught you table manners, Ginevra? Close your mouth when you are at the table."

"Ginny, we'd like to apologise to you for our words and actions," Arthur said softly. "We overreacted. We never meant to hurt you, honey."

"Eat your food and drink your tea before they get cold," Molly shushed them.

Ginny had no idea what to say but she did as was told. She missed her mother's cooking. She missed the familiar comfort her parents and home gave her.

"Mum, where are the others?" Ginny asked, referring to her brothers.

"I asked them to leave for the day, to give us some space to chat," Arthur answered. "Your brother Ronald was unhappy when I told him we've invited you back. We felt that it's best if he is out while we talk, to prevent any disturbances."

"That aside, have you been eating well? We heard that you were staying at your… friend's place. Were you treated nicely?" Molly looked at her in concern.

Ginny gave her a smile.

"There's always food at Tristane's place, mum, don't worry. She won't ever let me starve."

Molly's eyes were unreadable for a moment but the Weasley matriarch gave her daughter a warm smile and squeezed Ginny's hand.

"I'm glad to hear that. Is she staying at Grimmauld Place?"

Ginny shook her head, munching her pancake.

"She never took that back from Harry. She's staying at the Blacks' ancestral home, but I'm not sure of its location. I kept on forgetting to ask. It's a nice place, mum. It's huge and beautiful. She renamed it the Pirate's Lair, and I find it fitting. She only has one eye, like a pirate captain."

Ginny felt very happy, very bubbly. She felt like she could chat her day away with her parents, now that things seemed to be improving.

"Have you both had sex yet?" Molly asked suddenly.

Ginny blushed.

"No, mum, we haven't. We've just recently gotten together, just a few days ago."

Wait. Why was she even willing to talk about sex with her parents? The usual Ginny would be getting annoyed at such question and would never answer it. She frowned.

"Why do you like her that much, Ginny? Don't you know that dating another girl is wrong?" her Mother started to sob.

Ginny was alarmed. Why had the conversation took such a drastic turn? Without wanting to, Ginny answered.

"She's kind, funny, and never seemed to be bothered that as a Slytherin, she had a reputation to keep," Ginny was trying to shut her mouth but her body refused to listen to her. "I don't know how or why or when exactly, but by the time I realized it, I was already falling for her. Maybe dating another girl is wrong, maybe it's not. But what I do know is that I can't and I won't lie to myself regardless of the consequences."

Molly sobbed and took comfort in Arthur's embrace.

Ginny was horrified. "You… doused my food and tea with Veritaserum," she observed. "How could you?"

She reached into her pocket to get her wand but Arthur was quicker – he disarmed her. Ginny watched her wand flew across the room, out of her sight. She felt her father magically bound her body, making her tied to the chair, unable to move. She stared at them in horror.

"I'm sorry, Ginevra," his voice was full of grief, "but we have to do this. It's obvious that you've been traumatized terribly with the whole war and losing your brother, but you don't have to resort to this shenanigans just to cope with your sadness. We're here, and we want to help you. I'm sorry, my daughter, but this won't take long. We're going to bring you to Prague to cure you. I have some friends there who can help. Please bear with this for a short while."

Ginny panicked. They were going to bring her far away from Tristane and would make her memories disappear! No, that would never do. But she could not move – she could not even say a word. Her wand was with her father. She was weaponless, defenseless. A tear trickled down her eye. Would she be able to return to Tristane with the same feelings? Or would she return to Tristane without any feelings? Her left wrist could still move, out of her sheer stubbornness, and she groped her pocket, desperately hoping there would be something she could use to escape. Was the DA coin there? If so, perhaps she could send a message to Hermione. But no, the coin was not there. She had left it in the Lair, with the rest of her belongings.

 _You damn idiot_ , she cursed herself internally. Tristane would never forgive her.

Her fingers touched a cold, round object. She tried hard to remember what that object was and realized it was the stone full of drawings that Tristane gave her in the hospital. Ginny had promised Tristane that she would carry it with her wherever she went, and it became her habit to bring it around. She laughed bitterly inside. What good would that stone do? Ginny sighed and desperately hoped to return to Tristane, to escape before her parents brought her to Prague where hell awaited her.

A flash of bright light enveloped her for a moment and when it disappeared, she saw a familiar marbled ceiling.

"Ginny!" a familiar voice shrieked and heavy footsteps drew nearer.

Ginny's eyes were blurring and she had a hard time trying to focus on the face above her. Brown eyes. Bushy hair.

"Her..mi..o..ne…" the redhead managed to croak out before passing out.

Draco could not bring himself to wait for Hermione to wake up and confess his feelings. The whole thing gnawed at him, but he was too afraid to confront his own heart. It would be a mess. He had not slept the whole night and sat next to Hermione quietly, struggling with his own inner demons. He concluded that a person as pure as Hermione did not deserve someone as broken as he. She had a bright future ahead of her, and it would be akin to suicide if she aligned herself with him. Besides, could he love his future half-blood children? His own father could not give him the love he needed despite being a pureblood. Wait – why was he even thinking of having children? He was too young for that!

He sighed and looked at Hermione. There was no way he could do what his cousin demanded. No, he needed to clear his mind first. Draco took a piece of parchment and wrote a short note to Hermione, letting her know that he would be gone for a couple of days to attend some important meetings. He tiptoed out of the room, walked down the staircase, and disapparated once he was certain neither occupants from both rooms could hear him leaving.

In Malfoy Manor, Draco went to his room and dumped himself on the bed. The room was his comfort, his safe refuge. Even when Voldemort was making the manor his base of operation, Draco's room was left untouched. Most likely the Dark Lord deemed it was too unimportant for him. But still, Draco felt safe in his room. Within moments, he dozed off.

When he awoken, the sun was already up, shining brightly through the window. Draco grunted and shielded his delicate eyes from the sun's glare. He then noticed that he was still in his ballroom attire. He groaned. If his mother saw him right at that moment, she would hang him without a moment's hesitation, lord or no lord of the house. No Malfoys were allowed to sleep like a savage barbarian. With a long sigh, Draco got up and dragged himself to the bathroom. His mother would be unhappy to see him unkempt and dirty.

He was on his way to the dining room when he heard voices in his father's study. Who were there? Was his mother having some guests over? He looked around and, seeing nobody, he Disillusioned himself. Draco felt rather foolish – why would he need to hide and eavesdrop in his own house? But he tiptoed to the study and placed his ear to the door.

"… and please explain yourself, Patrick," Draco heard his mother's cold, clipped voice. Patrick? Who was that? Draco channeled all his focus. "I do not want to hear some rubbish rumours about my niece."

Draco heard a reedy voice chuckled softly. He did not recognize it. "My dear Narcissa, I can assure you, I am not spreading unfounded gossips. Or… are you protecting her just like you are protecting your son? My, my, how the mighty have fallen," the voice chuckled again. "The last time I saw you, you were just a little girl going to Hogwarts the following fall. Now, you're the matriarch of a great house. Unfortunately, it won't stay as great if you don't make the right choice."

"Patrick – no, Mr Fawley," Draco's eyes shot wide open – that Fawley guy was here? He dared to come to the manor? What the hell was going on? Why did no one wake him up? "I would appreciate it if you do not beat around the bush."

"Mrs. Malfoy," the reedy voice said, "your son, the current lord of Malfoy house, a pureblood, is getting himself entangled with a mudblood, in case you are not aware. Do you really want to tarnish your descendants' lineage just because this particular mudblood is adored by the masses at the present time? In a few years' time, I can assure you, this mudblood will be worthless. I am aware that there are not many fathers keen on offering their daughters' hands to your son due to recent…situation, but I am willing to align my house with yours and go through this difficult time together. I am offering my granddaughter's hand, for the sake of my dear friend Cygnus and the continuation of both the Malfoy and Black houses. I do not mean to intrude on your privacy, but your…ah...niece, should never taken the reign for a house as noble as the Black's. The Blacks' motto of _Toujours Pur_ is being mocked for as long as she holds the office of the lady of the house. Why is someone like her, whose blood is tainted with the mud, allowed to rise to such office?"

"I can assure you that my niece is as pure as you and I," Narcissa cut him icily.

"Then please, pray tell, why is such a pureblood lady bedding another witch? A blood traitor, nonetheless," Fawley sounded amused.

Draco could not stay still any longer. He had to intervene. He dispelled the charm and barged into the room, surprising both his mother and Fawley.

"I do not recall ever allowing guests as impolite as you to step into my house," Draco said coldly, challenging the old man. "You need to leave this place now. I cannot overlook the false truth you are trying to spread."

The old man chuckled and bowed his head mockingly.

"This must be Draco," Fawley mused to himself. "You've grown into a fine young man. It's a pity you allow your body to be tainted by mud. Perhaps…you desire to be like your cousin?"

Draco raised his wand, pointing it at Fawley.

"Out. Now!"

The old man gave Draco a look of pity. He took a vial out of his robe and offered it to Narcissa.

"I spoke the truth," Fawley said softly. "In here are memories to confirm what I said." Seeing neither mother nor son moved to take it, he placed the vial on the study table. "I was hoping that my return to England would bear joyful fruit, but I was mistaken. But I hope you will change your mind and open your eyes once you see what I have seen. My offer still stands – my granddaughter's blood is as pure as it comes, Mr. Malfoy. Should you see reason and wish to align yourself with those befitting your station, come to me anytime. Good day."

Fawley went out, escorted by two house-elves Draco called. After the old man left, Draco turned to his mother and asked, "What happened?"

Narcissa was slightly shaking, either with fury or fear – Draco did not know and that worried him.

"He paid an unexpected visit and, as I assume you've heard, he was trying to marry you off to his granddaughter and get rid of Tristane. I can't believe him! I never thought he'd return to England. This is unbelievable – my father's best friend wanting to hurt my father's granddaughter, sprouting nonsense and lies."

Draco took the vial and held it between his fingers. He stared at it. Something nagged at him.

"Mother, he did seem to believe in whatever he was saying," Draco said softly. He held it out to Narcissa, who was looking at him curiously. "I… I think we should see this, perhaps it can give us answers to his motives of wanting to kill Tristane."

Narcissa pursed her lips.

"Draco," she chided him, "I raised you better than that. Seeing memories given by someone that wants to harm your own family? Are you insane?"

"What if there are clues here to tell us his next moves? Or at least the way he thinks so that we can take precautions?" Draco argued. His instincts were telling him to jump into those memories. "We can ascertain whether the memories have been tampered with. At least if they turn out to be fake, we can narrow down on his motives."

Narcissa stared at her son for a long time. She then sighed.

"Very well," she made her decision. "Take the Pensieve and get your wands ready in case we'll be attacked by the memories."

They held hands, staring at the swirling cloud of memories in the Pensieve. Narcissa squeezed Draco's hand once, telling him that it would be alright. Draco nodded and, taking a deep breath, went closer to the Pensieve and let himself be sucked in. Narcissa followed right behind him.

They were in a cell which seemed to be underground. A much younger Fawley was sitting on a chair in the middle of the room, facing a beautiful brunette who was chained to the walls. She was covered in blood, and one of her eyes could not open as it was swollen.

"Carla," they heard Fawley speak softly, "the potion I've just administered on you is designed to amplify your pain and ensures your body can cope with it so that you will not die. I am pretty sure, as a Seer, you'd have foreseen this." He chuckled to himself, finding his words funny. "I hate to spill magical blood, but this is necessary. I hope you understand. Your prophecy caused my best friend to sire a son tainted by mud. Tell me what this prophecy is about or I'll make sure you last long enough to curse your own existence."

Carla spat blood from her mouth, laughing darkly.

"Cygnus deserves it," she snarled, earning a slap from Fawley. She breathed heavily, spat out blood again, and gave the calm Fawley a look of pure hatred. "Curse you and your descendants to hell!"

"Hell only exists in one's mind," Fawley replied calmly. He leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms.

"If I tell you, you'll still kill me anyway," Carla said bitterly.

"Yes, but I will make sure you die a quick and painless death. The alternative would be to prolong your life and give you a lot of pain."

Carla closed her good eye and took a deep breath.

"Fine," she muttered. "I doubt you'll keep your word, knowing your type who breaks promises, but whatever. This is bound to come out anyway."

Carla opened her good eye and gave Fawley a serene smile. Draco found it creepy. He did not like this. He was starting to regret this.

"Cygnus has always been mean to me," Carla began. "I'm just the nerdy Ravenclaw, hopelessly taken in by his stupid, charming self. I don't know what I saw in him. Oh well, all teenagers were foolish. He kept on rejecting me time and after time, even though my blood is as pure as his. My family is considerably wealthy as well, and I'm not an ugly duckling. I don't know why he just won't accept me."

Fawley said nothing.

"When he married that stupid old hag, I knew it was to spite me," she continued, her voice bitter. "She was nothing – never achieved anything in school, and is not even good looking! Cygnus was an idiot. And I was also foolish at that time to still want him. But one day, when his youngest were old enough to go to Hogwarts, he appeared out of the blue and begged me to See a future for him where he can sire a son. He wanted a bloody male heir so desperately. Ha! I knew he should've married me, that dumb man. As a revenge, I faked a prophecy, saying that he will have a son with the first female he met in front of some muggle bar, and that his son's line would bring the Black house fame and glory. That idiot actually believed me and Imperiused the woman, who was a muggle! Cygnus Black was willing to bed a mudblood just because I said so! Ha! Had I known it, I would've told him to divorce the hag he called his wife and married me instead. I was dumb as well."

Draco's blood ran cold hearing it. His mother held on to him, requesting his strength. Tristane was not a…pureblood?

"So you're telling me that the prophecy is fake?" Fawley asked calmly.

"Of course it's fake!" Carla laughed maniacally. "I was surprised when they actually produced a son! Imagine that – the house of Black is going to be lead by a half-blood!"

Fawley raised his wand and pointed it at her emotionlessly.

"As promised, a quick and painless death."

A jet of green light hit Carla square in the chest and she instantly limped, eyes devoid of life. He stood and looked at the corpse, studying it.

Narcissa tugged Draco's arm and led him out of the Pensieve.

"I'm sorry, Draco, I don't think I can watch it any longer," she sat on the chair shakily. He put his arms around her, comforting her. His inner core was shaken as well.

"All this…is a lie?" he asked nobody in particular. "What are we fighting for?" He released his hug and walked out of the room, leaving his mother alone. He needed to organized his chaotic mind. He needed to calm down.

Draco raided the cellar and grabbed a bottle of goblin ale. He took a swig at it and before long, he could feel the effects of alcohol on his body. He giggled. The blond walked to the Floo and decided to pay a visit to his best friend.

"Blaise! Blaise! Blaiiiiseeeeee!" he yelled with a singsong voice, giggling and stumbling out of the Floo filled with ashes.

Draco wandered aimlessly, yelling his friend's name. Moments later, an annoyed-looking Blaise appeared.

"Why are you drunk before noon?"

Blaise steadied his friend and helped him to Blaise's bedroom. The dark-skinned boy did not want his mother to see Draco in this state – for all he knew, Madam Zabini could decide that Draco could be her next husband. Ew.

"What's gotten into you, Malfoy?" Blaise asked once Draco was safely deposited on his bed.

"My life is fuuuucked, man," the blond slurred, sitting up.

Blaise raised his eyebrows. "Okay, I'll bite. Spill."

So Draco told him, in a rather intoxicated fashion, of the memories he just witnessed.

"…and I don't know what I should do, Blaise. This is all messed up. I thought she's a pureblood – I mean, Blacks are pure. She's not even the child of a prophecy. Like, what the fuck man."

Blaise stared at him incredulously.

"I am struggling to understand your current state of mind," he said slowly. "So you're telling me that you're in this…condition because your cousin turned out to be a half-blood?"

"Yes, Zabini," Draco was exasperated. How dumb could his friend be? "By Merlin, I thought Crabbe and Goyle were the dumb ones."

Blaise narrowed his eyes. He took a step toward Draco and punched him right on the blond's jaw.

"What the fuck, man! Are you insane?" Draco held his jaw, tasting blood.

Blaise grabbed Draco's collars and growled angrily.

"You fucking piece of shit, grow the fuck up! Are you going to whine about how unfair the world is and cry out a victim just because things don't go the way you feel it should? Boo fucking hoo! You ditched me as soon as we arrived in Hogwarts, despite us growing up closely together, just because my mother likes to change husbands, and glued yourself to Vincent and Gregory. Fuck, you never even wanted to use their first names! It's always 'Crabbe and Goyle'. Have you no respect to your friends? And when Vincent died, you don't even have the grace to talk to his mother and pay your respects! And you wonder why Gregory hates you and swore to oppose your house for as long as he lives.

You came whining to me, claiming the victim status about how nobody understood you, the Dark Lord being mean, you had so much pressure to ensure your family's safety, yet never apologised for turning your back on me! You're lucky I am kind to rabid dogs. You left me, and now you've left Gregory because he's worthless to you. Don't get me started on Pansy – you've been toying with her and took out your frustrations on her since day one. I'm glad she was never in love with you, you asshole. I am amazed she doesn't hate you. Fuck, she actually pities you. You used to hate Granger, but now for some unfathomable reason, you're best buds with her and even getting into her pants! Somehow her blood status suddenly went out of the window. But guess what? She's useful to you! She's a hero and can shield you from the public's hatred. I won't be surprised if you're going to ditch her one day when her usefulness to you has expired.

Now you're going to ditch your cousin, one of the few people on earth who loves you just the way you are, just because she is not a fucking pureblood? Oh but of course – all along, you've been caring for her because of the stupid prophecy and the confidence that she's a pureblood. Silly of me to think you actually have a heart. Give me a break, Malfoy. Be honest with yourself. Why are you so afraid of that beating heart of yours? What's so hard to admit that when you care for someone, what they are don't actually matter? You yourself keep on bitching to me that your pureblooded father never gave you love. So what's the issue here?"

Blaise released his grip and took a step back.

"Leave my house," he looked at Draco in disgust. "I don't want to see you until you decide to grow the fuck up. I'm disappointed with you, Drake. I thought you're more than this. Shit, man, you won't even apologise to Gregory. Get out. You're bothering me."

Draco found himself returning to Malfoy Manor in a drunken stupor, disbelieving with what had just transpired. Was he that much of a coward? But wait – he was no Gryffindor – so why should he act noble? He was a Slytherin and Slytherins had no heart. But that was a lie – Slytherins did have a heart. He stumbled into his bed and cried. What was he crying for? Why could life not be simpler? Was his cousin's blood status that much of a disgust to him? He pictured a smiling Tristane, carefree and happy. She had always made him felt safe, felt comforted. She adored him. She was the sister he never had. She trusted him. But…she was not a pureblood.

An image of Bellatrix came unbidden to his mind. Insane, cruel, and sadistic. He shuddered involuntarily. She was a pureblood, but not the kind he wished to have for a family. Draco remembered the first time he introduced himself to Tristane. She had just regained consciousness and was looking at him in terror. He told her that he was her cousin and that he meant her no harm – she broke down crying and hugged him, thanking the heavens that she was not alone, that she still had a family. Was he that cruel to take it away from her?

Draco made up his mind. He washed his face and drank a sobering potion, then looked for his mother. Narcissa was in the garden, sitting at the patio while staring numbly at a vial on the table. She had placed the memories back into the accursed vial. He approached her and took the vial in his hand.

"Mother, nothing happened just now," he said firmly. He crushed the vial, watching the memories went in a cloud of smoke. "We both had a nightmare, but now we've woken up. I don't remember what the nightmare was about, and I don't want to remember it."

Narcissa looked at her son, tears falling from her eyes. She pulled him close and hugged him, drawing comfort from Draco.

"It was a horrible nightmare," she agreed. "You're the lord of the house now, Draco. I trust your decision."

He kissed her forehead gently.

"I won't let filth destroy our family, mother," he said softly. "I've sworn to protect you and Tristane, and I will not back out on my word."

Both mother and son spend the rest of the afternoon sitting in the garden, enjoying the peace and tranquility. They only went inside when the snow started falling.


	25. Chapter 25

When Ginny regained consciousness, the sun was setting. Her body hurt all over but she found that she could move, albeit slowly. Her eyes adjusted to the bright light and saw a mess of jet black hair next to her.

"Your girlfriend is exhausted – she's been worried sick about you and to get her mind off worrying, I got her to practice some spells."

Ginny slowly turned her head to the other side and was met with Hermione's concerned face.

"What happened, Gin? Did someone attack you? Tristane told me that you were meeting your parents but you suddenly appeared injured. Are your parents hurt? I tried to contact George to check but he insisted that I get Tristane to forbid anyone from locating and approaching the Lair. What's going on?"

Ginny tried to speak but her throat was parched dry. She pointed to her throat and mimicked the act of drinking water. Hermione got the hint and poured her a glass of water. The brunette helped Ginny to sit, carefully not waking the sleeping Tristane, and drank water slowly.

"Dad… attacked me," Ginny said hoarsely.

"Uh sorry Gin, I think you have to repeat that. I misheard you and I thought you said your dad attacked you," Hermione said apologetically.

Ginny hugged herself, shaking.

"Dad attacked me," she repeated, whispering.

Hermione looked confused for a second and then it dawned on her that Ginny was not muttering insane stuff. She hugged the redhead and rubbed her back, trying to soothe her.

"They wanted to…bring me to…Prague and…cure me." Ginny took a shaky breath. "I…don't want to leave…Tristane."

"Hey, it's alright, Gin, it's alright," Hermione said softly, calming the redhead. "We're here for you. They can't hurt you anymore."

"I…my wand is with…dad," why was talking hurting her? "They…bound me to…a chair. I...was saved by…Tristane."

As if hearing her name, Tristane shifted and opened her eye. Seeing Ginny awake, the one-eyed witch sat and climbed on the bed, hugging Ginny from the other side.

"You're awake, oh god you're awake," Tristane was relieved. "The Healer said you were severely injured, being apparated without your consent while at the same time someone else was holding on to you or something like that. I was so worried. But you're safe."

Ginny smiled and kissed Tristane's cheek. She inhaled shakily and breathed in the familiar lilac scent. That calmed her down and she stopped shaking.

"I'm safe…thanks to…you, Tris," she might have stopped shaking, but talking was still hurting her. "You…rescued me."

Both Hermione and Tristane looked at her in confusion. Ginny gently disentangled herself from their hugs and reached into her pocket. Thankfully, the redhead was still wearing the clothes she wore this morning. Ginny groped around and took out the stone, now charred and disfigured. Tristane recognized it and looked surprised, while Hermione looked at it curiously.

"What's that?" the brunette asked.

"It's a stone I made for Ginny that I gave her when she was hospitalized after the Quidditch match," Tristane answered, gingerly taking the disfigured stone from Ginny and stared at it.

"I…didn't have my…wand with me…because it was…taken from me. I…was holding that…stone and I…thought of you…and suddenly I…was transported…here." Ginny struggled to finish her sentence and was proud to manage to do so.

Hermione suddenly looked interested and silently asked to see the stone. Tristane obliged.

"But how?" Hermione asked in wonder.

"I'm good with runes," Tristane blushed. Ginny was looking at her in adoration, in admiration. She squeezed Ginny's hand. "When I saw her crashing into the stadium, I was so afraid that I'd lose her before I could tell her how I feel. So I drew some runes on this stone to protect her and it apparently did so by bringing her here."

"You're brilliant, Tris," praised the brunette. "You've got to teach me how to do that one day. I am competent in Ancient Runes, but only in theory."

Ginny leaned on Tristane, resting on the one-eyed witch's shoulder. She felt safe. Tristane was here. Tristane was holding her.

"Gin, what happened exactly?" Tristane asked gently.

Hermione answered for the redhead, seeing how tired and in pain the redhead was. Tristane was horrified by that and held her girlfriend tightly, thankful that Ginny was safe in her arms.

"I won't ever let you forget about me," Tristane murmured. "I won't allow you to disappear from my life, missy."

Ginny smiled tiredly. She had no idea what kind of life she was going to take, but she would go through anything as long as Tristane was beside her.

"I love you, Pirate," the redhead mumbled, not giving a thought to what she said. She wanted to sob in relief, that Tristane was not going to be taken away from her life.

Tristane froze. Hermione, who heard it as well, cringed. It was time to make herself scarce. The brunette gave an apologetic nod to Tristane and left the room as quickly as she could. Tristane had no idea what to do – should she pretend that she did not hear it or should she say something and acknowledge it? It was all too soon and she was not ready for that.

 _Damn it, Gin, you really love to put me on the spot don't you_ , she groaned internally.

Tristane then noticed that Ginny's breathing was slow and steady. The redhead had fallen asleep. Tristane had a mixed feeling of relief and disappointment: relieved that she did not have to deal with the bomb that was just dropped, and disappointed because she wanted to know whether Ginny was being serious or not. Tristane gently laid Ginny on the bed and snuck under the cover next to the redhead, watching her sleep.

Hermione entered Tristane's room (since both Tristane and Ginny were using Ginny's room, Tristane asked Hermione to use the one-eyed witch's room for the time being instead of sleeping in another wing) and was surprised to see a figure standing at the windows, gazing silently over the view. His body was rigid and shoulders tense, as if readying for an attack at any moment. Despite his emotionless face, his eyes showed inner torment raging on.

Hermione approached him and cautiously rested a hand on his shoulder, letting her presence known.

"What's wrong, Draco?" she asked softly.

The blond turned toward her slowly and gazed into her eyes. Her breath hitched – his silvery eyes were gazing at her intensely, making her knees buckle and was thankful when Draco held her waist to steady her.

"Are you alright?" he looked concerned.

"Y…yeah," she stuttered and blushed.

Draco did not release his hold on her. He kept on staring at her with that intense gaze of his, making her starting to feel uncomfortable. An image of Tristane frozen just moments ago came to her mind unbidden, and her guts were telling her that maybe it was time for her to skip this room as well.

But before she could disentangle herself from him and make an excuse, Draco opened his mouth and said, "The first time I saw you, I wondered how important you were because you looked like you were sharing a compartment with Potter. In school, when I saw you Sorted to Gryffindor, I was quite disappointed and I felt angry for some reason. As days went by, I started to resent you because I just could not get marks higher than yours. The only thing I was better at than you was flying. I told myself that it was proof of purebloods being superior than mudbloods."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "My father was displeased with me – the son of an old pureblood line being bested by a mudblood whose family had no history in our world. Shameful. I hated you after that. To me, you were the obstacle that prevented my father from wanting me, from being proud of me, from wanting me. My hatred was cemented when you won some points for Gryffindor at the end of the year feast and helped Gryffindor won the bloody cup. Slytherin should've won it."

Draco opened his eyes again and this time his eyes look haunted. "During the summer holidays, I overheard father planning to do something about the ever-increasing school intake of students from muggle backgrounds. At first I thought it was a simple plan of trying to limit the number of intakes but then he started to talk about Slytherin having his own 'cleanser' and monsters. I freaked out, I didn't want you to get kicked out of school or killed. After all, how could I prove that I was better than you if you were to die or get expelled? I wasn't sure what he was planning, and he himself was not quite sure, so I decided to read up about anything connected to muggle cleansing and Slytherin-esque monsters. I found several possibilities. When I went to Diagon Alley to shop, I tore some pages from several books and hid them, in case you got an attack and I was the only one who knew what happened."

Hermione wanted to say something but Draco put a finger to her lips, asking her to say nothing. "You were attacked," his voice shook, his mind relieving the horrifying memories, "but you did not die. By then I knew the monster was a Basilisk, and I made a habit to roam around to places you tend to go to, just to check on you. When I saw your Petrified body, I panicked. I shoved the paper about the monster in your fist and ran away, hoping someone would find it to help you. Somehow Potter managed to do it and you were saved."

Hermione was stunned. Her memories of the night of the attack were quite fuzzy and she assumed that was due to being Petrified by a gigantic snake. She had wondered why would she rip a piece of paper out of a library book and scrawled on it. Draco's revelation shocked her.

"In third year, you punched me and I was so shocked," Draco chuckled to himself. His jaw hurt for days. "I tried to be furious with you but I was actually quite happy – you had a fiery spirit. During the world cup, I knew what my parents were planning to do and I was terrified you'd be a victim. So I searched for you under the pretense of wanting to see muggles suffer, and stumbled upon your little group. I was relieved to see you were alright."

"Wait – so you were trying to warn me, not to threaten me?"

Draco smiled and nodded. "I couldn't warn you nicely. I think everyone would be suspicious if I did that. I mean, I obviously hated you so there was no reason for me to warn you, right?"

Hermione started to see a pattern here and had a nagging suspicion that she knew what he was going to tell her. First, Snape – now, Draco. What the hell was the Slytherins' problem, acting like a git but actually were trying to be the hero? Was being unpleasant to everybody a must? Ugh.

"During the Yule Ball, you were stunning," Draco said huskily, his gaze increased in intensity. "I wanted to steal you away from Krum and devour you there and then but I had to control myself. I was so jealous of Krum I had a mind to ask my father to buy out his Quidditch team and make his life miserable."

"Draco, you did not safe me at Malfoy Manor," Hermione said shakily, her heart thumping wild. "You left me with Bellatrix. Alone."

Draco turned his gaze away, ashamed. "I… had no defense for that. I was a coward. I was scared. I didn't want you to get hurt but I didn't want myself to get hurt either. I thought if I did not confirm that it was you, my aunt would release you. I didn't expect her to torture you like that. I'm so sorry, Hermione. I regretted not saving you, but if I did and we managed to escape, there was no telling what would happen to my mother. I am truly sorry, Hermione. Which brings me to what I wanted to say all along – I like you. A lot. I don't understand it but I have feelings for you. And I am so sorry for all the things I have done to you in the past. Which is why I cannot allow this pretense of us dating to go on any longer. You deserve a good man, and I am nowhere near your level. I do promise you that I will do my best to keep you safe until the day I die, as penance for my past mistakes."

"You are the biggest prat on earth," Hermione snarled, she was pissed. Big time. Draco released his hold on her and kept his gaze on his shoes. He could not bring himself to look into those beautiful brown orbs of hers.

"You're still a coward aren't you? Kissing me but never daring to tell me how you feel about me. But when you do, you're going to back out of my life." She felt hurt. She wanted to hex him into oblivion. "Prove it then. Prove to me that I mean nothing to you, unimportant enough for you to fight for."

Draco raised his eyes, unsure what to do. Hermione gripped his collars and pulled him down roughly, closer to her. Close enough for him to count her eyelashes. Close enough for him to feel suffocated.

"Kiss me," she hissed. "Kiss me and show me that you don't want me, that you have no feelings for me."

Draco was stunned. Before he could react, Hermione's lips were on his, and his body took control of his mind. He reciprocated and let himself lost in the sensation. He put a hand behind her neck and gently pulled her closer, that there was no space between them. His other hand held her back firmly, trying to meld into her.

Hermione released him from the kiss and looked into his eyes. He was confused, his resolve was wavering.

"Draco," she said softly, "our past had been a mess, mainly due to Voldemort." He flinched at the name. "You had your reasons to act like you did, and I had mine. You were not exactly the flavor of the month in my book. I admit, sometimes I'm still angry with the way you treated me in the past, but you've grown into someone more…respectable. Kinder. Gentler. To me, at least. I know you're still a prat to most people. I don't understand this as well, but I do like you. I like you too much that it frightens me. I didn't want to admit it, but I can't keep on lying to myself, can I? I've faced Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and I came out a winner. Why should I be afraid of my own feelings? Your kiss…you didn't seem to want to leave me."

"But how could you even want me? I have nothing to offer you, Hermione. My reputation is gone, I'm unwanted, I've been mean to you, and I'm a nobody. There's nothing that you'd want from me."

Hermione cupped his face in her hands, bringing it close until their noses touched. "This is a crazy idea, blasphemous even – I actually just want you," she whispered. "You, Draco. You."

Draco was speechless. He had no idea what to say to that.

"Besides," she continued, "how could you atone your mistakes if you walk away from my life? Hatred should be replaced by love, no?"

Draco searched her eyes and found her words genuine. He wanted to cry – who was this angel in front of his eyes? Overcame by emotions, he drew his face nearer to hers and placed his lips on hers.

"In that…case," he said between breaths, "I, as… Lord Malfoy…would like to…seek permission from…you to…court you in…hope of one…day joining both our…houses."

Hermione giggled at that.

"Why are you laughing?" Draco was confused.

"What was that about?" she could not stop her laughter.

"It's tradition," he rolled his eyes. "I think you muggles call it 'asking you out' or something like that."

"That didn't sound like asking me to go out with you," Hermione chuckled, wrapping her arms around his neck. "That sounded like a prelude to a huge commitment. Are you trying to scare me away?"

"But muggles get into a relationship in order to get married, no?"

"Well, if you put it that way, yes. But not every relationship ends in marriage."

"I wasn't asking you to marry me, I did say in the hope that one day our houses will be joined together," Draco was still confused.

"Alright, let's not argue about this," she chuckled. "I accept your courting proposal, Lord Malfoy."

Draco grinned and claimed her lips, letting himself loose in her sensation. He had spent the rest of the day struggling with himself, fearing that Hermione would allow him to walk away. But she did not and he was relieved. She amazed him in so many ways, and he quietly vowed to himself that he will never ever let such brilliance escape from his grasp.

Before they knew it, they were on the bed, heaving and panting, with Hermione on top of Draco. Nobody had ever made him feel this way; nobody ever touched him the way she did. He could feel himself hardening, his lust and desire threatening to spill from the lid he kept closed tight. When she looked at him with such intensity, his breath hitched.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured. He reached out to her, pulling her close. She kissed his neck, finding his vein. He groaned. She was making him crazy.

"Hermione," he gasped, "wait."

She stopped and looked at him with a confused expression. He rolled over, putting her underneath him.

"I… I don't want to rush things with you," he managed. Her confused expression was replaced with blushing moments later. She buried her face in his neck, mortified.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know what came over me."

Draco kissed the top of her head and murmured, "I'm too irresistible for you, I suppose."

She laughed. He liked to hear her laugh. Draco decided that it was his mission to always put a smile on her face. He lied next to her and slid his arm under her. Hermione rested her head on his chest and put an arm around him, holding him tight.

"Now I won't have to try to correct people's assumptions of us dating," she remarked.

"Nobody would ever believe you anyway," he chuckled. People tend to ignore it when they tried to tell them that they were not dating. But now, there was no need for that.

They enjoyed the silence for the rest of the night, holding each other. Hermione did not ask him to leave, and Draco did not seem to think he should return to his room in case Tristane decided to reclaim hers. Hermione was happy and she forgot to inform him on what happened to Ginny. All her current worries and fears were held away by her happiness.

Harry managed to Expelliarmus-ed the man's wand away. But it came at the cost of his own wand rolling off from his hand when the man jumped at him. Harry threw a punch to the lanky masked man, throwing him off balance. Harry tackled the man and pinned him to the ground, face downward, hands firmly held behind his back.

"Good job, Potter," Lewis approached them and handed Harry his wand that had flown away.

Harry just nodded, out of breath, and accepted his wand. He swished it and ropes appeared to bind the masked man. Harry got off from the man's back and took off his mask forcefully. A handsome face, with a square jaw and dark brown eyes stared at Harry full of loathing. Lewis knelt next to Harry and grabbed the man's hair, yanking it.

"Hello again, Sergei," throughout his career as an Unspeakable, Lewis ran across the international criminal often enough to the point that Lewis kept on asking for a simple desk job. He was sick of dealing with the criminal. Without warning, Lewis punched Sergei calmly, breaking the criminal's nose.

"Missing me that much eh, Lewis?" Sergei spat blood from his broken lips, snickering.

"I apologise for allowing you to escape my clutches three years ago in Rome," Lewis said lightly. "I have to remedy that, don't you think?"

Sergei set his gaze on Harry and recognized him.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, I have to thank you for taking out that madman. He was bad for my business."

Harry was thrown off. He was not expecting that.

"Ignore the scum, Potter," Lewis ordered before Harry could reply Sergei. "You know the drill, Sergei. Answer my questions or else I'll hurt you. What did Fawley want?"

Sergei chuckled.

"Always straight to the point. That's why no girls want you, Lewis. Did you get Potter to satisfy your needs?"

Lewis punched him again calmly.

"Your girlfriend was decent enough. Poor girl, it seemed that you couldn't give her what she needed," Lewis mocked him. Sergei's eyes flared with anger.

"How dare you touch Elena, you bastard!" he fumed, earning him another punch, but this time to his ribs.

"So. What did Fawley want?"

Sergei gave an uncaring Lewis a look full of hatred.

"Really, Sergei? Are you going to clam up?" Lewis sighed. "You're a merchant, not a mercenary. Your body won't be able to withstand what I am capable of doing to you, you know."

"Fuck you."

"From what Elena said, you're terrible in bed. No thanks."

Sergei spat at him, which earned the criminal another blow to his hurting ribs.

"Are we going to just trade insults? If yes, I'll strip you off and dump you in front of the Ministry during peak hour so that everybody can appreciate your…undesirable tool."

"You asshole. What do I get in return if I tell you?"

"Ah, now we're talking. It depends on the severity of your crime, but I can at least promise you you'll get a comfortable cell in Azkaban."

"Three hot meals a day. And four hours daily out in the grounds."

"Two hours."

Sergei mulled this for a moment. Oh well, at least he would have three hot meals daily.

"Alright. He wanted me to hook him up with Jashad, a master in Illusion and Lilian, the queen of cages."

Lewis tilted his head.

"Why?"

"Fuck if I know. I didn't ask – he paid me good money."

"Where can I meet these two?"

Sergei smirked. Lewis did not like that smirk. It always spelled trouble.

"I can tell you where, but it won't be easy."

"Sergei, do I really need to threaten you?"

"Alright, alright. But trust me – you won't like it."

So the criminal told them. And both Lewis and Harry cringed. Sergei was right – neither of them liked it.


	26. Chapter 26

"Boss, are you sure we have to do this? Is there no other way?" Harry was struggling to button his tight leather pants.

"I like this idea as much as you do, Potter," Lewis' gruff voice was heard from the next cubicle. "Suck it up."

Harry groaned. This operation known only to himself and Lewis, due to its highly embarrassing nature. Even their special joint task force team had no idea what they were going to be doing that evening. Harry and Lewis had deposited Sergei in Azkaban under the charge of running away from the force of law a few years back in Rome when Lewis was trying to apprehend him. As their mission relating to Tristane was top secret, they could not breathe a word of it. Lewis had threatened Sergei to keep quiet about Fawley if the criminal did not want to be handed over to the Chinese and Serbian, where his head was coveted by both countries Auror departments.

Harry managed to button his pants and looked at himself in the mirror: he was wearing a fitting white tee that showed the outline of his abs, with a neon pink blazer and leather pants. On his wrist rested a bright yellow-strapped watch. Lewis picked both their outfits and Harry was questioning the man's sanity.

"Hey boss," Harry called out, "are you sure gays dressed up this way?"

"I don't know, but I think they like bright colours and are fashionable. You're terrible with fashion, Potter, so shut it."

Harry felt like a walking firework – he was full of colours.

"But boss, I'm pretty sure there are gays who dressed up in clothes that I like to wear."

Harry heard his boss going out of his cubicle and he followed suit. He was instantly jealous of Lewis' outfit of grey shirt and jeans. Lewis looked like he was in a foul mood.

"I don't pay attention to fashion, but we are trying to make you look obviously like a boy who's just coming out," Lewis said grumpily. "I'll hex you if you're going to complain. At least you're not wearing what I'm wearing."

Lewis was referring to what he was wearing underneath. Lilian, a moniker given to a witch skilled in locks and cages, would only give audience to a particular kind of people. He had to pretend to be in that grouping, which happened to be something he was not fond of. He was, after all, a traditional man. Or so he thought.

"Let's go."

Lewis grabbed his coat and Harry followed him into the cold night outside the warehouse which was one of the safe houses Lewis had set up. There was no rain and wind tonight, and Harry blessed whoever controlled the weather. The young Auror preferred to be layered in his comfort clothes when it was cold instead of fashionable dressing. Well, Lewis' idea of fashion, that was.

Lewis stopped at the nearest lamp post and turned to Harry.

"Last chance to back out, Potter. I won't blame you if you do. You don't have to go through this, really."

"I knew from the beginning when I joined the Aurors that I won't be able to keep my hands clean from dirty jobs, sir," Harry said firmly. "Had I wanted a normal job, I'd have stayed in Hogwarts and finish my education."

Lewis looked at him critically. "Are you certain? After tonight, your life won't be the same anymore. You'll be going down the rabbit hole, as the muggles like to say."

Harry nodded. "I'm not looking forward to tonight, but I understand the importance of it and I am willing to do it. You can count on me, sir."

Lewis gripped Harry's shoulder once, as a sign of encouragement.

"All the best to you, Potter. Remember, you can always say 'no' to him."

Lewis turned on the spot and disapparated to his destination. Harry took a deep breath, steeling himself. He looked around and, once assured no soul was in the vicinity, disapparated with a 'pop' to _his_ destination.

Harry arrived in a rather busy shopping district with millions of people going to and fro the streets, hurrying to their next destinations. Nobody spared him a glance, and more than one person bumped into him accidentally due to his inertia.

"Move, moron," a grumpy-looking middle-aged man swore past him.

Harry was amused – no muggles recognized him here. There was no hero worship and people gushing over his bravery. It was refreshing, although the bumping did annoy him a little. Harry crossed the street and strode over to a plain-looking building with 'The Illusionists Club' written on an old plank. A security guard stood in front of the door and gave him a once over.

"Moonlight blue with cockatoos," Harry muttered to the guard, hoping the man would not bar him access. Sergei told him that strange sentence was the password.

The guard jerked his head toward the door and Harry released the breath he never knew he was holding. Harry forced himself to stop shaking and entered the building.

The interior of the building was unlike its ulterior. It looked like a normal muggle lounge/bar catering to the upper middle class and above. The place was not packed yet – the night was still young. Harry looked around and before he could decide where to head off first, a waiter approached him and offered to take his coat. Harry obliged, not wanting to be rude. He felt uncomfortable with his neon pink blazer, but nobody bat an eye. Perhaps Lewis did actually have some sort of fashion sense.

Another waiter approached him and brought him to a secluded area in the back, to another room. There was only a stool in the room, placed in the middle. Harry was tensed and on alert – he kept his hand in his pocket, ready to take out his wand at any moment.

"Please wait here sir, the master of the club won't be long," the waiter politely bowed and left.

Harry was speechless. Sergei never said anything about this – the criminal only spoke of the password, condition of entry, and how to identify Jashad. Harry suspected that since this was an exclusive place, every new face would be screened. Harry was thankful that he charmed his face, so that now he had blue eyes, messy blond hair, and most importantly, no scar. He would be unidentifiable to a random onlooker.

Minutes later, the door opened, revealing a stocky, tanned man with crew cut hair and oval face. His electric blue eyes seemed to pierce through Harry's charms, and the stranger frowned.

"I am Jashad, the owner of this establishment," his silky voice reminded Harry of Nagini. "I don't know who referred you to this sanctuary, but I do not appreciate those who try to hide themselves in a place where you are guaranteed safety to be yourself."

"I don't understand what you mean," Harry's heart was thumping. So this was Jashad, the master Illusionist. According to Sergei, Jashad – not his real name, of course – managed to hide away from Voldemort all these years due to his skills in using illusions to hide him and his friends. Jashad had no interest in siding anyone in the war but opened his arms to anyone who managed to find his place a safe refuge.

Jashad stood in front of Harry. He was slightly taller than Harry. Jashad's face was contorted in fury.

"I built this place as a sanctuary to those who have to keep up appearances and need a place where they can be themselves," Jashad snarled. "I appreciate that you have come to terms about yourself, boy, but everybody else in this place have reasons to be fearful of exposure. I cannot allow you roam my sanctuary with your identity obscured, mingling with the rest of my patrons who have come to feel safe enough to show their real selves."

Harry gulped. Jashad did notice the charms. Harry had to make a decision – should he walk out or should he show his real face?

"I…I can't show my face," Harry tried to reason with Jashad. "I promise I won't tell a soul about the people I see here." That was true – Harry had no interest in outing anyone. He just needed to get certain info from Jashad but that seemed to be impossible judging from Jashad's anger directed at him.

"Then you leave me no choice but to ask you to leave the premises," Jashad said coldly.

Harry did not want to return empty-handed. This could be crucial.

"Alright, I'm sorry." Harry muttered a spell and his charms faded away. Jashad looked surprised.

"Mr. Potter, I am most honoured to have you grace my humble establishment," the anger was gone from his voice. "While I understand the ruckus and problems you'll face if this ever goes out, I cannot allow you to roam around hidden behind another face. It's house rule, sorry."

"I understand, Jashad," Harry was slightly frightened by the predatory look Jashad was giving him. Sergei did mention Jashad loved the rich and famous... Harry gulped.

"I am proud that you are brave enough to take this first step into accepting your true self," Jashad bowed his head to him. "I have a feeling you won't be comfortable mingling with everyone, considering that everyone will recognize your face. So, allow me the pleasure of keeping you company for the night."

Harry was not sure whether he should rejoice or be frightened.

"Uh, thanks Jashad."

Jashad gently took his hand and led him out of the room and up the nearby staircase. At the top of the stairs, there was a door. Jashad led him through it. The upper floor consisted of only one room: there was a mini bar, with several couches, a fireplace, and a king-sized bed.

"This is where I entertain my family, friends, and…special guests," Jashad winked at Harry, leading the young Auror to the bar.

Jashad went behind the bar and looked at Harry expectantly.

"What can I get for you, Mr. Potter?"

"Butterbeer will do, Jashad." Harry climbed on a stool and made himself comfortable.

Jashad scoffed. He grabbed a glass and made a mixture which Harry was sure contained no Butterbeer. Jashad placed it in front of him.

"It's my own creation. I call it 'Jashad's Nectar'. Try it."

Harry prayed for forgiveness from his liver and his tomorrow self. They would not be happy with his current self. He drank it in one gulp, earning a clap from Jashad. It was not too bad. Quite fruity. Jashad served him another one, and the Illusionist himself had a glass. The second glass made him light-headed and cheerful.

"That's quick," he remarked to Jashad, who had taken the stool next to his.

"Well, how else could anything get done around here?" the Illusionist laughed. He drew closer to Harry.

"So tell me, when did you first realize?" he asked seductively. "No, no, don't tell me, that's too soon," he added before Harry could say a thing. "You're here and that's all that matters."

Jashad leaned in and gave Harry a peck on the lips.

"I love it when you cuties don't know what to do – the awkwardness is too much," Jashad giggled. For a brief moment, he reminded Harry of a slightly saner, and much less cruel, Bellatrix.

"Everyone's here for something, myself included," Jashad continued huskily. He was cupping Harry's face in his hands. "The night is young and I have another special guest coming in a couple of hours. I'm sorry, lover boy, I can't play with you for as long as I like tonight. So let's skip to the chase and get down to business. I'll grant you a wish if you'll grant me mine."

Harry had an idea what Jashad wanted to do. Harry was debating internally whether he should abort mission.

"I can assure you, I'm very skilled and will make you forget the world," Jashad added, winking.

Oh what the heck, Harry thought to himself. He had been tense and stressed out lately anyway. Plus, this could be a fun night. And an informative one. On so many levels. Harry grabbed Jashad's glass and downed it in a single gulp.

"Make sure you keep your promise."

Jashad grinned mischievously.

Harry walked into the apartment in a daze. It was a safe house where he was supposed to regroup with Lewis once their respective missions completed. The apartment was still empty. Harry opened the fridge and took out a bottle of beer. The apartment was set up to be completely muggle, in case any of them needed to hide as one. The details were impressive – even muggleborns would not be able to tell that the apartment was owned by the Ministry of Magic.

Harry threw himself on the couch and switched on the television. _Sound of Music_ was playing but he was not paying attention to it. His mind was still going through the past couple of hours. He could not believe how amazing Jashad was – that man was gifted with an amazing tongue. Harry blushed, remembering the pleasures Jashad managed to give him.

Harry heard the door opened and Lewis' footsteps stumbling in the dark.

"Why didn't you on the bloody light, Potter?" his boss grumbled, groping about until he found the switch.

 _Let there be light_ , Harry intoned.

Lewis collapsed next to Harry. He looked like a mess – his shirt was unbuttoned and full of creases, while his belt was not even fastened. Harry noticed something inside his boss' shirt and was surprised.

"Uh boss, is that…"

Lewis snatched the beer from Harry's hand and gulped it down.

"She said not to take it out until the dawn breaks. I've been a bad boy, apparently," Lewis grumbled.

Harry just stared at him.

"What, you knew what would happen!" Lewis crossed his arms, giving Harry a challenging look. "I still can't believe how hot a woman can be wearing all leather and carrying a flogger while I'm being tied."

"Uh… don't your nipples hurt, boss?" Harry could not help staring. That looked painful.

"She's amazing, making me feel like I won't be able to enjoy life without such…torturous methods," Lewis answered evasively. The only way for them to meet Lilian was to book her Dominatrix services.

"Makes me think that I've been having sex the wrong way," Lewis muttered. "Don't you dare to repeat this to anyone, Potter. I'll make sure you'll be a street cleaner all your life, hero or no hero."

"Well, if it's any consolation to you, Jashad was amazing as well. I can't believe that a man could be that flexible," Harry sighed, feeling contented.

"Did you get the info?"

Harry nodded, reluctantly reverting to Auror mode. He still wanted to enjoy the relaxing sensation Jashad gave him.

"Well, I managed to get him to brag about his Illusion abilities, and he was telling me that he had just met a wizard who wanted to learn from him. To be specific, to learn about human illusion."

Lewis furrowed his eyebrows. "Explain."

Harry walked to the fridge and grabbed a couple more bottles, which he offered one to Lewis, who had finished his.

"Creating an illusion in the form of a human being and projecting their movements. I'm not sure whether it's that Fawley guy or his lackey, but Jashad mentioned it was very specific and the wizard did not want to learn anything else," Harry pondered at this. "The next person who's going to take a lesson from him will be in three weeks' time, and that will be a witch wanting to learn about landscape illusion."

"Hmmm. That human illusion guy sounds suspicious," Lewis remarked. "Lilian boasted to me of her abilities to make iron-clad cages that will require at least fifty skilled witches and wizards to open. She told me that there are a lot of the rich who paid her to create such cages and it seemed the war drove demands: people used to cages to protect themselves from the Death Eaters."

"Hey boss, what would Fawley do with human illusion and an iron-clad cage?"

Lewis took a swig from his bottle before answering.

"Whatever it is, it can't be good," the veteran Unspeakable muttered. "Add in Miss Black and the countless threats on her life to the equation and it spells trouble."

Tristane shuffled in her sleep and wanted to bury her face into Ginny's neck. But the angle felt…odd. Tristane opened her eye and was met with Ginny's brown orbs. The redhead was grinning at her, head propped on an elbow.

"How long have you been up?" Tristane yawned and pulled Ginny closer.

"Just a couple of minutes ago."

"How are you feeling?"

Ginny rested her head on Tristane's, breathing in her scent.

"Aside from being hungry, I'm all good," murmured the redhead. "Whichever Healer you hired was good. I feel like I'm back to normal."

As if to support Ginny's statement, her stomach made a loud growl, eliciting laughter from both witches.

"Let's feed that monster before it gets out of control," Tristane chuckled.

As they walked down the stairs, the door to Tristane's room opened, and a giggling Hermione followed by an equally giggling Draco came out. Tristane shrieked in delight and flung herself to the both of them, hugging them tightly.

"Had a good night, 'Mione?" Ginny grinned at the blushing brunette.

Tristane then seemed to realize something and took a step back, giving them a look of horror.

"My bed…did you both…on my bed?"

Ginny was clutching her sides, unable to control her laughter. Hermione blushed furiously while Draco just grinned like an idiot.

"No, nothing happened, Tristane!" Hermione denied it vehemently.

"Your bed is still as pure as my girlfriend here," Draco added, earning him a smack to his arm from Hermione.

They joked and teased each other as they made their way to the dining hall. As they entered the room, Tristane was giving Ginny a peck on the cheek when they realized a figure was already seated at the table, sipping her tea quietly, watching them. Tristane and Ginny automatically released their hold on each other.

"Uh… morning, Aunt Cissa, I didn't know you were coming," Tristane took a seat at the head of the table, trying to keep herself from blushing. Her aunt caught her red-handed. Tristane cursed herself internally and prepared for the incoming fight.

Draco greeted his mother and sat next to her, while Ginny and Hermione took the seats at the opposite.

"Draco, Tristane, it is highly improper for the Lord and Lady of a house to bed someone before your marriage," Narcissa pursed her lips.

Tristane exchanged glances with Ginny. Did it mean that Narcissa did not care about their genders?

"Also, it would be more appropriate and beneficial for you to start selecting a husband, Tristane," Narcissa continued, stirring her cup of tea.

"I thank you for your concern but I have made my choice," Tristane replied curtly. Underneath the table, she searched for Ginny's hand and gripped it for strength.

"Is that all you young people think about these days? Why are you allowing your emotion to override your mind? Tell me this, then: how do you propose to provide an heir by making foolish mistakes?"

Draco placed his hand on his mother's, giving her a silent warning. Narcissa brushed it off.

"I do not care who you bring to your bed once you have produced an heir, Tristane," Narcissa said coldly. "Bring anyone you want to fulfill your desires and bring you pleasure, but you cannot do that without producing an heir. You do not understand our world yet so I can understand your actions. But if you continue this, you are foolish. There are rules which you must follow."

"Are those the rules which you've followed all these years and lead you to your current precarious position, Aunt Cissa?" Tristane could not keep the anger from her voice. "The very same rules which nearly destroy the wizarding society and allow a madman to come to power?"

Narcissa narrowed her eyes.

"We gambled, and we lost. But that was not due to following the rules – we just took a risky gamble, that's all."

"Then I'm taking my risky gamble," Tristane said harsher than she intended. "But unlike yours, choosing Ginny will not make me lose."

Tristane and Narcissa went into a stare-off, and the one-eyed witch did not notice the happy smile on Ginny's face. After what seemed to be an eternity, Narcissa averted her eyes.

"Very well, if that's your decision," she conceded unhappily. "Just make sure not to destroy the house which I was born into."

"I am the Lady Black, Aunt Cissa, I won't fail."

Hermione shivered. For a moment, Tristane suddenly reminded her of Bellatrix.

Narcissa turned to Ginny and offered her a rolled up parchment. Ginny stared at it apprehensively but took it and unrolled it.

"It's from your brother, George Weasley," Narcissa explained as Ginny read it. "It seems that no owls are able to enter this building for some reason unexplained to me yet, and therefore your brother thought it would be better if he owl me and asked me, no, demanded me, to pass it on to you. I will regret asking this but, what is going on?"

"It's a protective measure," Tristane answered, looking at Ginny in concern. "Ginny had a…disagreement with her parents yesterday and to prevent them attacking this place, I turned on the full protection charm. The only people I have allowed to come and go as they please are the five of us here, Aunt Cissa. Gin, are you alright?"

"Wait – when did it happen again? How come nobody told me anything?" Draco was perplexed.

Hermione kicked his shin, signaling to him to shut up. He realized why he was clueless about it and rubbed his shin silently. This exchange was not missed by Narcissa but she chose to not make a comment.

"Well uh…mum and dad are angry and emotional," Ginny mumbled. "They've locked my wand but George said he'll try his best to steal it for me. And uh, mum's thinking of cutting support for me to make me return but George said if it happens he's willing to be my guardian until I finish school. Well, him, Bill, Fleur, and Perce. Well, that's it." She was shaking, memories of the previous day returning to her. Ginny was still unable to accept that her parents did actually try to do what they did.

Tristane pulled the redhead into her embrace, letting Ginny sob in her arms. Hermione rubbed Ginny's back - her heart went out to her friend.

"You still have me, Gin," Tristane murmured into her ear, kissing the top of her head.

"And me, Gin," Hermione added. She gave her boyfriend a stare and Draco mumbled his inclusion as well.

Narcissa rolled her eyes, something which Hermione did not get to see every day. The brunette's blood boiled – how could that woman roll her eyes when someone was in trouble?

"Miss Weasley, please pull yourself together," Narcissa said in a bored tone. "My niece had just declared that making a gamble on you will bring her victory – I beg to differ. You are not even able to face this challenge without making a mess of yourself. Are you intending to give my niece failure?"

"Aunt Cissa!"

"That is the truth, Tristane. You insist on being with this girl – so be it. But this girl doesn't seem to want you to win."

Ginny stopped her sobbing and wiped her tears away. Narcissa's words were like a slap to her mind. The redhead hated to admit it, but the vile woman was right – she breaking down instead of fighting back would just drag Tristane down.

"I will make sure Tristane wins," the redhead vowed, although not quite sure what kind of victory Tristane was aiming to achieve.

"Very good," Narcissa nodded approvingly. "Now, children, what are your plans for the day?"

After the rather emotional breakfast, Narcissa left them to their own devices once Draco promised to not create a 'scandal'. Hermione blushed at that and could not help but be irritated with the woman.

Tristane suggested that they went to the grounds to take their minds off things. There was a Quidditch pitch and in a dash, both Draco and Ginny raced to the pitch to play one-on-one Quidditch. Tristane and Hermione trailed along behind, amused to see the Quidditch players.

"Hey, 'Mione, can I ask you for a favour?" Tristane asked quietly.

Hermione looked at her inquisitively, waiting.

"Can you teach me how to do Apparating?"

Hermione was surprised with the request. Was Tristane magically ready to perform a complicated magic such as Apparition? Tristane might be of age but she could not even do grade three spells.

"I know I am not skilled with magic yet, but do you think you can help me with it? I'd like to try."

Hermione mulled for a moment. Oh what the heck.

Tristane was surprised to find that it sapped her strength. The one-eyed witch had prepared herself mentally that it would be a difficult and complex subject, but was unprepared when she was left drained. After her hundredth attempt, Tristane was disappointed to find that she did not even move an inch from her spot.

"Don't worry about it, nobody got it in their first try," Hermione tried to reassure Tristane.

The one-eyed witch just nodded her head dejectedly.

"I'd like to try again," she said quietly.

Hermione was worried to see Tristane looking exhausted, but obliged her request. For the rest of the day, they helped Tristane (Draco and Ginny joined once they were done with their little match) trying to master Apparating. They only stopped when Tristane could not even stand anymore and, despite her protests, marched her inside to take a rest.


	27. Chapter 27

Tristane lied face down on her bed while Ginny massaged her back slowly, releasing the knots in her muscles. The one-eyed witch groaned when Ginny came across a particularly tense muscle. Tristane regretted pushing herself with the exercise. At the end of the day, she still could not move an inch.

"It took me some time before managing to Apparate successfully," Ginny remarked, seeming to guess Tristane's mood. "My brother Ron left part of his eyebrows and had to do a retest."

Tristane giggled. She imagined half of an eyebrow left on the ground when the owner of said eyebrow disappearing with a 'pop'.

"Cases of people splinching themselves are very common," the redhead added. "It's a complicated and dangerous procedure, so don't push yourself too far. Take it easy, alright? You'll get there someday."

Tristane sighed. The 'someday' part sounded far away. She turned and pulled Ginny close for a kiss. It was slow and sensuous at first, before it became heated. Ginny moved on to Tristane's neck, sucking on that delicious pulse. Tristane moaned which spurred Ginny on. But when Ginny's hand went under Tristane's shirt and touched the one-eyed witch's abdomen, Tristane gripped it tightly and tried to back away.

"What's wrong, Tris? Did I hurt you?"

Tristane was breathing heavily and her eye was wild. Ginny was concerned. The redhead inched closer and pulled Tristane into her embrace.

"It's alright, sweetie, it's alright. I'm sorry if I hurt you."

Tristane shook her head, trying to control her breathing.

"No, it's…it's fine. I'm sorry Gin. It's…nothing. I was just tired, I guess."

Ginny furrowed her brows.

"Tris, I won't force you to tell me, but I'd like to know so that I won't repeat the same mistake again. What's wrong?"

Tristane shook her head again.

"Nothing, it's…I…it's fine Gin, really. It's fine."

Ginny sighed. Perhaps it was too fast and Tristane was just panicking. They both lied on the bed, Tristane's back to Ginny. The redhead put her arm over Tristane and held her tight.

"Gin, do you think Aunt Cissa accepts us?" Ginny was nearly asleep when Tristane asked the question.

"Hmmm? What? No, no. I don't think so, sweetie. She doesn't seem to be the type that's willing to back off easily."

"Really? But she did concede."

"She's a Slytherin, Tris. Survival seems to be your house's biggest trait. You guys are willing to lie, cheat, and even kill to survive. Not that I'm saying you're a scum or anything," Ginny added hastily, "but Slytherins are willing to do anything to survive. Narcissa seems to be willing to do anything for her son. That's her main reason to betray her previous boss, isn't it? To make sure that prat survives. I mean, look at her attitude toward Hermione – Narcissa is actually civil to a non-pureblood! It's not due to a change of heart, I can assure you that. It's due to survival. Hermione is a hero of war and is undoubtedly the main reason why Harry succeeded. The Malfoys have fallen from grace and at the moment they are friendless. The only reason why they're still standing is because of Harry and now, Hermione. Getting someone as influential as Hermione to date Draco is immensely beneficial to the Malfoys. Draco and Hermione having feelings for each other is just an added bonus. It's the same thing with us, really. Narcissa won't want to do anything that will jeopardize the Malfoys' relationship with your house. Having you as their ally helps a lot, especially considering the Ministry's interest in protecting you. By default, the Malfoys benefit as well. I think that's why she lets you do whatever you want to do at the moment, even though her instinct is to drag you to a marriage immediately."

Tristane was quiet for a moment.

"So if I can get sympathy from influential people, she will be forced to accept our relationship?"

Ginny did not like that tone. She was familiar with that tone: her twin brothers were frequent users of that tone.

"Pirate, I don't know what you're planning, but don't. I know that tone. And I know when you Slytherins scheme, things tend to get messy."

"I'm not planning anything," Tristane replied innocently.

Ginny was not convinced but as long as Tristane did not do anything weird, the redhead would be alright.

"Hey, Gin? Do you want to get a new wand until you can get your current one?"

"No, I don't. I've gone through so much with that wand. I'll only get a new one if that one is destroyed or beyond repair."

"How are you going to go through your classes?"

Ginny kissed Tristane's shoulder lightly and murmured, "I'll figure it out, I guess."

Tristane was quiet for a moment and then said in a determined voice, "Use my wand then."

"What? No, what are you going to use then?"

Tristane turned around and faced Ginny.

"I don't actually need to go through the school exams, remember? Plus, I am quite worthless with a wand. I want you to use mine until you get yours back, alright?"

"But Pirate, what will happen if you get attacked? How are you going to defend yourself?"

Tristane snorted. "I'm pretty sure my wand will be out of my grasp before I can think of a spell for defense," she smiled wryly. "Besides, I still have my runes and I'm quite capable with them."

Ginny did not look convinced.

"Ginny dear, how about a compromise: I won't go anywhere alone, and you use my wand for the time being? Also, in the evenings, I'll practice casting spells with my wand before I sleep. It's a good bargain, right?"

While Ginny was touched with the offer, she preferred Tristane to have at least some sort of defense aside from her runes.

"Gin," Tristane groped under her pillow and brought out her wand, holding it out to the redhead, "take it. Come on. If you won't do it, I'll sulk and will sleep in another room."

"Really, we haven't even been a week together and you're already threatening me with that?" Ginny chuckled but she did take the proffered wand.

"It's cedar with unicorn tail as its core," Tristane watched Ginny muttered a few spells, trying out the wand.

"It's…it feels friendly enough," Ginny commented. "Although it seems as if it is keeping a distance from me. I don't know how to explain it. But thanks, Pirate, I really appreciate it."

Ginny placed the wand underneath her pillow and rested her head on Tristane's shoulder. This felt so right.

Tristane was starting to dream when her head pounding like mad. She suppressed a groan, not wanting to wake Ginny. Tristane carefully extricate herself from Ginny, quietly climbing down the bed. Her movements had awoken the redhead, who mumbled, "Wuzz goin' on?"

"It's alright, Gin, I just need to use the toilet," Tristan whispered, kissing Ginny's hand. The redhead grunted and fell back to her slumber.

Tristane made her way to the bathroom, her head threatening to explode with each step she took. She locked the bathroom door and searched for a piece of parchment and quill frantically.

 _This is a fucking bathroom, not bookstore, you idiot_ , she cursed herself.

Tristane opened the cabinet drawers as quietly as she could, to not attract attention from Ginny, searching for something that she could use to write with. She found a red lipstick and then grabbed the toilet roll. With a shaking hand and tears flowing from her eye, she wrote the runes for "silence" and "absorbing noise". Tristane then muttered a few incantations to activate the runes and, once the runes glowed, she released a primal scream.

She curled herself on the bathroom floor, clutching at her head, while screaming until there was no voice left. Shaking uncontrollably, Tristane called for Muzkon and immediately was hit with another wave of pain, this time it was a searing pain.

 _Young lady, are you insane? Why are you calling me for at this time? You are exhausted and in tremendous pain. If anything, I must be dormant so as to not add to the pain_ , Muzkon chastised her.

 _Help me with the pain, Muzkon. It's too much…_

 _I can't, you're too weak at the moment. If I do something, your body will be damaged. I really must get going; your body cannot withstand me right now. The pain will eventually pass, but you must improve your magical strength. That is the only way. Do not call me until you have regained your strength. This is suicidal._

Tristane felt Muzkon hiding himself within her, lying dormant. The burning sensation cooled down, but the pain was still present. After some time, the pain was reduced to a dulled aching. That, Tristane could deal with. She got to her feet and washed her face with the cold water. She looked horrible. Tristane muttered a few words over the runes and the glow disappeared. After tossing the toilet paper into the trashcan, Tristane went back to her bed unsteadily. Tristane climbed the bed and pulled Ginny into her arms, with the redhead just grunting.

The exhaustion soon lulled her into a fitful sleep, with the aching in her head the main cause for it.

The next few days passed relatively peaceful. Hermione and Tristane spent most of their time in the library, with Hermione busy doing revisions for the NEWTS that was not due for months, Tristane practicing and learning new spells under Hermione's supervision (she could finally levitate an object for ten full minutes), Ginny using the Quidditch pitch to the max and occasionally had one-on-one matches against Draco, and the blond boy disappearing most of the time to the Manor to take care of some 'business'. Sometimes Hermione caught Draco looking at Tristane with a sad expression.

Hermione was puzzled – what was going on now? She had a vague feeling that it had something to do with Narcissa. Was it because he knew his mother was unhappy with Tristane being with Ginny? Hermione wondered how Narcissa could be certain about that. After all, when they were entering the dining hall, Tristane and Ginny acted just like most female best friends would. Something was decidedly fishy here.

Hermione wanted to ask Draco right away but could never seem to find the right time for it. At nights, Draco would be so tired and after a short make out session, would immediately doze off. During the day, Draco would either disappear to the Manor or be around Ginny and Tristane, making it difficult for Hermione to raise the issue.

Hermione finally found the opportunity in Hogwarts' Express. As Head Girl and Head Boy, Hermione and Draco had to patrol the train quite frequently. They had left Ginny and Tristane in a compartment sandwiched between other Slytherins. Draco had casted several protective charms before willing to go for patrol, his overprotective streak coming out to the surface.

"Drake," Hermione said quietly, passing through the front half of the train, filled with mostly the younger students, "what's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"Lately you've been looking at your cousin sadly. Did something happen?"

Draco looked avoided Hermione's gaze and focused on his feet instead. He was nearly hit with a stray paper plane coming out of one of the compartments, and Hermione went into Head Girl mode, telling off the rowdy band of second year Gryffindors. The compartment's occupant apologised meekly.

"So. What happened?" Hermione returned her focus on him.

"Nothing happened. It's just your imagination," he gave her a charming smile.

She swatted his arm.

"Don't you dare lie to me," she growled. "What is it?"

Draco sighed.

"Things are apparently not what they seem to be," he gave a cryptic answer.

"So you've never noticed that there was this odd tension between Ginny and Tristane?" Hermione never knew he could be so blind.

Draco gave a wry smile.

"You could say that," he nodded in agreement.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. It was too easy.

"No, that's not it," she decided. Seeing an empty compartment, she dragged Draco into it and locked the door. "Tell me."

Draco sighed again. He knew she would not give up until she got her answers – this particular Gryffindor was too stubborn for her own good. He mulled, trying to decide whether he should stall for time or just be honest with her there and then to save a probable headache in the near future. He looked into her eyes and found a stubborn resolute. She looked cute with that expression. He pulled her into a kiss but she pushed him back.

"Draco, don't you dare use that tactics to take my mind off."

Draco groaned. Why, of all the people, must he have feelings for her? He threw himself on the chair and motioned for her to sit next to him. Hermione complied, but she was still giving him her stubborn look. Draco then started to talk and tell her what he saw in the Pensieve.

"There's no prophecy, Hermione," he chuckled bitterly. "Tristane was born all because of a lie. Her father died because of a lie. She lost her eye because of a lie. She's not even a pureblood."

While Hermione knew that Tristane was not a pureblood, she did not know that it was due to that very reason that Fawley was after the one-eyed witch's life. Hermione held Draco's hands in hers.

"Does she know about this?"

Draco shook his head.

"I don't think I can tell her," he confessed. "It's bad enough that someone wants to take her life – it'll crush her if she knows that she exists due to a lie. I think I'll let her think she's a child of some prophecy. She won't feel worthless."

Hermione felt a surge of pride in her heart – Draco was maturing right in front of her very eyes. She hugged him tightly and whispered, "I'm proud of you."

Draco was surprised with the unexpected praise. He grinned.

"Of course you are. How can you not?"

Hermione swatted his arm.

"Prat."

Draco's face turned serious. "Hermione, please don't tell Tristane. She can't know this. "

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"What do you take me for, Draco? I'm not that stupid."

Draco was relieved. He hugged Hermione.

"Thanks," he whispered in her ear.

Hermione felt slightly guilty. Sure, she had just promised not to tell Tristane – but that did not mean she would not tell anyone else. The Head Girl knew this piece of information was important and she must tell McGonagall soon.

Hermione had to deduct points – _deduct points_ – from Gryffindor within five minutes upon reaching the castle. A pair of third year mischievous Weasley twins wannabe pranked their Ravenclaw classmate, causing the poor girl to sprout antlers and started mewing like an adorable kitten. The Head Girl had not even reached the Great Hall yet and mischief was already dogging her trail. Hermione accompanied the mewing girl to the infirmary and explained to the fussing Madam Pomfrey the situation. Hermione wished she was the one that stayed behind on the train to ensure nobody was left behind and let Draco deal with annoying situations such as this. But on a second thought, Draco would have deducted too many points from Gryffindor and be an ass about it.

By the time Hermione arrived in the Great Hall, everyone was already halfway eating dinner. The Head Girl was on her way to the Slytherin table when she saw Ginny eating next to Neville at the Gryffindor table. The redhead, as if sensing her, looked up from the plate and motioned for Hermione to join them. Hermione glanced at the Slytherin table – Tristane and Draco were there. Did something happen? The Head Girl approached the Gryffindor table and sat between Ginny and Neville.

"The chicken tonight is delicious, 'Mione!" Ginny greeted her cheerfully. As usual, there was a pile of food heaped on the redhead's plate, enough to feed Hermione for a week.

"Hogwarts' house-elves are incredible cooks," agreed Hermione, taking a piece of chicken.

"Hermione, I hope you won't be offended, but you need to eat more," Neville said softly, looking at her plate somewhat critically.

Hermione groaned internally but took another piece and was rewarded with a grin from Neville. The Head Girl noticed he seemed to change – he was taller, less chubby, and somehow more reassured with himself. She realized she had not spent much time with most of her friends for the past months, especially since she started to get involved with Tristane and Draco.

"No offense taken, Nev," she smiled. "How was your holiday?"

"I was just telling Ginny that Gran gave me three rare books of Oriental plants for Christmas," he looked excited.

"The only thing he'd read is if it's anything to do with plants," Ginny grumbled. "Books are made from plants, Nev, that alone should entice you to read every single book."

"Says the girl who only reads Quidditch," Neville replied in a light tone, winking at Ginny.

To say that Hermione was shocked was an understatement. Here was Neville Longbottom, the boy who was so timid that his own voice would easily scare him. But now, that same boy was at ease trading jokes and replying teases with his friends. In such a short span of time, he had grown. Hermione wondered how much all of them changed, especially after the war had. Had she changed much?

"I have to go and check the greenhouses," Neville rose from his seat. "I'll see you both around."

Hermione was slightly startled, breaking off from her reverie. Before she could bid Neville a good night, Ginny elbowed her gently.

"'Mione, come with me," Ginny whispered, gesturing with her head. Hermione gave the redhead a questioning look but did not say anything and followed the redhead out of the Great Hall, navigating through the mob of students who had finished their meals and were going to their various destinations.

"Why are we here, Gin?" Hermione asked when they reached the empty corridor housing the staff's private rooms.

They stopped in front of an oaken door with the sign 'Professor Delacour '. Ginny knocked the door twice softly and then turned to Hermione.

"I am curious as well, 'Mione," the redhead admitted. "McGonagall stopped by at the Gryffindor table before you came and asked me to come here after dinner and to bring you along as well."

Before Hermione had a chance to reply, the door was opened by none other than Harry.

"Harry!" Hermione squealed in delight, tackling the grinning boy and enveloped him in a bear hug.

"Long time no see, 'Mione," he returned her hug, a tinge of happiness in his voice.

Harry released his hug on Hermione and gave Ginny a warm hug as well, albeit briefer.

"Come on in," he stepped back, allowing them entry.

"You weren't followed, were you?" he added, looking out the corridor suspiciously.

Both Ginny and Hermione rolled their eyes in unison.

"Yeah, we made sure the whole castle knows we are going to have a tea party here," Ginny answered sarcastically.

"Sorry, force of habit," Harry grinned apologetically. "Come, follow me. They're waiting as we speak."

"Who?" Hermione could not help from asking, even though she knew she would find out the answer soon enough.

Harry just smiled at her as they both followed him to another room. Fleur's residence, as expected, was immaculate. However, Hermione was surprised to see the decoration being kept to a minimum. The Head Girl assumed Fleur would be the kind of person who would over-decorate her residence, suffocating the place with pink.

In what Hermione guessed would be the living room sat Lewis, McGonagall, Fleur, Kingsley, and Andromeda. For some reason, there were only one large coffee table and bean bags. No chairs, sofas, or couches at all. Hermione tried to keep her face blank when she noticed the Headmistress trying to perch as regally as she could on a bean bag. Lewis did not seem bothered by it – he looked snug lying on the bean bag. Fleur and Kingsley sat comfortably on their bean bags as well. They were having a quiet discussion which stopped when the three of them entered.

"Ah, you're finally here. Please, take a seat," Fleur gestured at the remaining bean bags.

Ginny gleefully plopped herself down unceremoniously. Hermione bet the redhead overstuffed herself during dinner and was glad to be able to sit as lazily as one could while meeting people of importance. Hermione sat next to Ginny as gracefully as she could, to the amusement of the redhead. Harry took the one next to Hermione's.

"Coffee? Tea?" asked Fleur, looking at both witches expectantly.

"Tea, please," both replied in unison.

Fleur waved her wand and two cups of hot tea flew from the direction of the kitchen.

"Alright, since we are all here, let's start this meeting," Kingsley activated his 'serious business' face.

"The reason why both you and Miss Weasley are called here this evening is to discuss matters pertaining Miss Black," McGonagall began. Hermione and Ginny exchanged a look. "I assume neither she nor Mr. Malfoy are aware that the both of you are here?"

"No, Professor," Ginny answered for them both. "I told Tristane that Hermione and I would be in the Gryffindor Tower for a few hours, hanging out with some Gryffindors."

McGonagall nodded, pleased.

"While I am aware that both Miss Black and Mr Malfoy have every right to be involved in matters concerning Miss Black's safety, I believe that it is best to keep them out of this particular discussion of ours," the wizened Headmistress continued. "Mr Richardson and Mr Potter have interesting information for us. However, before they share what they found, is there anything new you ladies discovered?"

Hermione and Ginny exchanged glances. Hermione did discover something which she had not managed to tell her best friend yet. But was there anything Ginny knew that Hermione did not?

"I'll go first, I think," Ginny seemed to have read her mind. "I only have a small piece of story to tell anyway. Hermione can add and complete whatever I miss out."

McGonagall nodded. Ginny took a deep breath and started to tell about Tristane getting the letter from Harry regarding her mother and grandmother. The redhead was not sure whether telling of Tristane's reaction to that letter was significant enough or not, but the rest of the room listened attentively.

"And there's something else," Ginny hesitated. This had been bugging her since that cold Christmas morning. "I was wondering around the place one morning, I couldn't sleep. At this hallway, there are a lot of Black portraits. One of them called me a blood-traitor. It didn't bother me, I'm used to it," she hastily added when she heard Hermione growled. "Anyway, another portrait spoke up for me and defended me. I wasn't expecting that. But that's not important. The thing is, he mentioned that Tristane's blood was 'tainted'. He knew that she was not pureblood. How could he have known?"

Andromeda leaned forward in her beanbag, her expression worry.

"Did the portraits revolted? Or at least made strong objections and insults when my niece's name was mentioned?" Andromeda asked.

Ginny shook her head. "No, and when Tristane appeared and ordered them to keep quiet, they obeyed her."

"Then they did not know she's not pureblood," Andromeda said firmly. "But, I wonder why that portrait said she's tainted."

"I'm not sure whether my story will help to answer that particular question, but please listen," Hermione interjected before the group started to focus on that question and forget about the main purpose of the meeting.

Hermione told them what Draco told her, of Fawley's visit and a trip to Fawley's memory. Both Harry and Ginny held the Head Girl's hands, knowing how much Hermione hated breaking promises and at that very moment Hermione, while not technically breaking her promise to Draco, did tell a few people of what he told her.

"Fawley's in England? That's strange, he never set foot in England since the day he left with his father decades ago," Lewis frowned. He did not look happy with this development.

"This means things will get worse," Kingsley remarked in his deep voice.

"I honestly can't see how Hermione's story answers Ginny's question," Andromeda said, worry was evident in her voice. "This weekend I'll be visiting my ancestral home and try to figure out what that portrait meant. I have a bad feeling about this."

"Won't they get into a screaming match with you?" Ginny asked, surprised. "I mean, your name was blasted off the family tapestry."

"The current head of the house reinstated me and allowed me access to the house, as a member of the Black family," Andromeda answered. "Fortunately, my niece has not been brainwashed yet."

"If you need help, let us know, Andromeda," Fleur offered.

Andromeda nodded her thanks.

"It's my turn now, I think," Lewis said. He looked at Harry briefly before shifting his gaze to Hermione and Ginny. The Unspeakable told them what he and Harry found out, while keeping the story of how they obtained that information out of the story. Harry was glad for that – he did not want that particularly embarrassing story to be known. "We are still trying to figure out what Fawley wants to do with an illusionist and a cage master. I suspect that he wants to capture Miss Black, hence the cage. But I'm not sure what the illusionist is for."

"I want you girls to be constantly on guard," Kingsley said quietly. "The presence of Fawley in England is not good. Don't let Miss Black out of your sights – chain her up if you have to."

Hermione noticed Ginny blushing and was suspicious – did the redhead let Tristane to roam around the castle by herself? The Head Girl was going to asked that aloud when she saw Harry smirking at Ginny, making Hermione confused. Hermione watched the rest of the room and saw that only Fleur noticed Ginny's blush and the French professor hid a knowing smirk behind her cup of tea. Hermione did not like this – what did they know that she did not? The Head Girl intended to interrogate her friend later on.

"Lewis, I want you and your team to watch Fawley and figure out what he is up to," Kingsley continued. "Minerva, I need your help to monitor Fawley's grandchildren. Fleur, please ensure Miss Black gets her training."

The Minister of Magic looked at his pocket watch and sighed.

"I really hate departmental meetings," he grumbled to no one in particular. "It's a waste of time and money, but for some unfathomable reason it's necessary." He rose and bid his goodbye, disappearing into the Floo.

"Well, we must be off too," Lewis rose, looking unwilling to part with his bean bag. "Let's be off, Potter."

Harry gave both Hermione and Ginny a quick hug each before following his boss into the Floo.

"Thank you for coming, the both of you," Fleur smiled at both girls. "You've done well."

"I think it's best if you return now to Miss Granger's quarters before they get suspicious," McGonagall said kindly. Seeing the guilty looks on both witches, the Headmistress chuckled. "As much as I dislike rule breakers, I think in this situation it is wiser to keep both Mr Malfoy and Miss Black very near to the both of you. Which is why I have been keeping a blind eye over the comings and goings of your quarters, Miss Granger. Now be off with you both."

Hermione was mortified – by law, only Draco and her were allowed to sleep in her quarters. Tristane had been sleeping there regularly, and Hermione had a feeling Ginny would become a permanent fixture soon. The Head Girl thanked her stars that they did not get in trouble with McGonagall about that. Losing her badge over that would surely destroy her career before it even started, Hermione thought to herself.


	28. Chapter 28

It was a warm and sunny Saturday morning, so Hermione decided it was a good day to spend time studying in the library. As much as she liked having her own Quarters to study, the constant presence of Draco, Ginny, and Tristane, plus the quite often appearance of Blaise, Pansy, and Theo made the Heads' Quarters too lively for Hermione's liking. After all this time, the library was still her place of solitude and refuge.

Draco had gone for some 'tactical meeting' with the Slytherins while waiting for their turn to use the Quidditch pitch, while Ginny had disappeared before Hermione had awoken for Quidditch practice. There was only Tristane in the Quarters, but Hermione had a feeling either Blaise or some other Pirates would barge in to keep Tristane company. Well, in essence, they were still having guard duty over Tristane.

Hermione would really really really like to study. Emphasis on the _really_.

Lately, she had never been able to have much time dedicated for studies. Internally, she was starting to panic because it was less than six months to go before NEWTS and she had not started to do revisions for the past six years' studies and she needed to start to get on practicing for the past fifteen years' exam papers, and what if fifteen years were not enough? Should she add an additional ten years? And she also needed to go over her Ancient Runes – she had not managed to score perfectly for that subject, for some unfathomable reason, and she needed to uh…

Hermione let out an audible groan and massaged her temple. She needed to calm down and tackle this issue step by step. She was worried that taking one year off her studies, albeit for a very good cause, would greatly affect her studying abilities. She wished Voldemort would wait until she finished her education but that would be akin to wishing for Bellatrix apologizing to Hermione for her past atrocities.

Hermione sighed and quickly changed into a pair of jeans and sweater. Before she left for the library, she checked on Tristane and found the one-eyed witch was still asleep in Draco's room. Hermione left her a note and dashed off to a promising day full of books and learning.

Hermione was walking along one of the corridors leading to the library when she heard screams, yelling, and malicious laughter. She recognised that particular laughter – it was the laughter that brought pain (most times, but not always), misery, and despair. Hermione focused on the sounds and changed her path, jogging briskly to get to the scene immediately.

Hermione saw a group of third year Gryffindor students running around screaming and shouting, desperately trying to avoid a cackling Peeves, who was in mid-air, lobbing what seemed to be a dark brown jelly-liked ball into the air slightly above him, which burst into small pieces moments later, and smack into whoever nearby. The third years were covered in dark-brown gooey substance and the smell made Hermione wanted to gag. Peeves was laughing manically and took out another ball from a jar he held in his hand. The ball burst and an additional layer of icky substance covered the terrified students.

Hermione took a deep breath and charged in – it was her duty to deal with such calamities, no?

"Peeves, stop it this instant!" she shouted, pointing her wand at the Poltergeist.

Peeves looked at her curiously, a ball was in his hand.

"My, my, Miss Saviour of the Wizarding World is here," he cackled. There was a mixture of humour, respect, and malicious intent in his eyes. "Poor Peeves here prefers not to get Voldy-beater dirty, but if she insists, then Peeves has to comply."

He lobbed the ball and Hermione casted a Shield charm. While the Shield protected her from most of the splatter, somehow the gooey substance managed to get onto her. She stank.

Hermione shot a spell at Peeves, intending to smack him away from the vicinity, but he dodged and lobbed three balls.

The blast drenched the poor third years but her quick reflex of casting another Shield charm protected her from most of the blast. She did not get off unscathed, unfortunately.

"Peeves, stop throwing those gooey balls!"

"Or what, Miss Head Prefect?" Peeves seemed to enjoy taunting an enraged Hermione. "It's not Peeves' fault that Peeves has the Weasleys' Stinking Blast." Hermione groaned. She should have known it was one of the twins' – well, now it was just George – joke products. "Little icky Samuel Whittington here was carrying it and poor Peeves was just minding his own business, strolling around the castle like he always does, to protect students from evil pranks." Hermione looked at him in disbelief. "Poor Peeves overheard icky Whittington and his naughty friends were going to set these balls upon some poor Ravenclaws. What was Peeves supposed to do aside from exacting justice?"

"You should not lob those balls, Peeves," Hermione answered irritably. "Now stop throwing those balls, hand them over to me, and leave quietly."

"What if Peeves is not finished with justice?"

"Then I'll tell Bloody Baron what you did," Hermione's patience was running thin.

"Why would the honourable Baron listen to a bratty Gryffindor?"

Hermione lost her temper.

"Because this bratty Gryffindor happens to date another bratty Slytherin who is on good terms with the Baron."

Peeves sulked. He dropped the box of balls which fortunately did not set off, and floated away, grumbling. Hermione strode to the box and inspected it.

"I'm confiscating this," she announced, "and fifteen points from Gryffindor. Now return to your dorm and clean yourselves off."

Hermione looked at her arms – they were nearly covered with the gooey substance. She muttered a few spells, trying to get the substance off of her, but to no avail. But of course. If the twins' joke items could be rid away easily, then the world would surely end. She groaned internally. There was no way she Madam Pince would allow her to enter the library covered in smelly substance that could infect the books. Hermione had a mind to give a piece of her mind to George. She knew it was pointless – George would still sell his joke items to Hogwarts students, and students would always find a way to smuggle them into the castle anyway. But perhaps if George could figure out how to prevent poltergeists like Peeves from using them…

Passersby gave Hermione a wide berth as she returned to her Quarters to clean herself. She wished she could cast the Bubblehead charm on herself – at least that way she could have some clean air. Unfortunately, some of the substance was latched onto her face. Oh the horror.

Hermione noticed that her note to Tristane was gone. Tristane was awake.

"Sorry about the smell, Tris," Hermione called out, careful not to drop any goo on the carpet as she walked to her room.

There was no answer. Silence.

Hermione furrowed her brow. Did Tristane went back to sleep again? Hermione knocked on Draco's room twice.

"Tris? Are you awake?"

No answer.

Years of being friends with Harry polished Hermione's instincts, and, at that very moment, Hermione's instinct was urging her to check Tristane's whereabouts. Hermione opened the door, intending to apologise for intruding if the one-eyed witch was indeed asleep.

The bed was made, and nobody was on it.

"But of course," Hermione mumbled. What was she expecting? That a member of the Black family would actually be reasonably logical for once? It irritated her. Sirius was stubborn and a daredevil; Bellatrix was a deranged lunatic; Andromeda was a rebel; Narcissa was an ice queen; Phineas was a difficult and arrogant man. Tristane was _definitely_ a Black.

Hermione strode to her own room and checked the Marauders' Map – for all she knew, Tristane could be in the Slytherin Common Room with the rest of her housemates. Hermione squinted and scoured the map for one particular dot that bore the difficult Slytherin's name. For the umpteenth time, Hermione groaned: Tristane was strolling around the castle, alone, at a deserted area.

Hermione considered for a moment: should she raise the alarm immediately and call in the troop? Or should she just send a message to Tristane to return immediately?

The smell of the substance was giving her a headache. Hermione decided to just have a warm bath first before deciding on any course of action.

Hermione lounged on the couch in her living room, doing her Advanced Transfiguration essay. She felt slightly guilty for being too lax - she should be doing her homework in a more appropriate environment such as the library. Hermione promised herself that tomorrow she would really be spending the day in the library.

 _You won't be able to get a proper job without having good NEWTS, Hermione_ , she chided herself. Well, if things did not go well, she could always write a book from her perspective on how the Trio defeated Voldemort. She shook her head at that thought. There was no way she would be willing to return to those memories just because she was too lazy to achieve good grades to secure a good job.

The soft swing of the portrait and the sudden halt of footsteps told Hermione the prodigal child had returned.

"Glad you managed to come back alive," Hermione said calmly without looking up, continuing to write her essay in her small and neat handwriting.

"Ah, I had no idea you'll be back so soon," Tristane replied in a light-hearted voice, walking rapidly to Draco's room. She tried to open the door but it was locked.

"I thought we might need to have a chat," Hermione finally looked up from her essay and kept her face impassive.

Tristane at least had the grace to look slightly guilty.

"Please, have a seat," Hermione gestured to the couch opposite her.

The one-eyed witch sighed and plumped herself on the couch, resigned. She sulked.

"I thought several attempts on your life would make you realise that it is foolish to wander around alone without protection," Hermione began, her stare piercing.

Tristane looked away and mumbled, "Wasn't alone."

"Then who were you with? Please don't lie to me, Tristane."

Tristane refused to answer and chose to study the cloud formation instead. Hermione sighed and leaned back, weary.

"Tristane," Hermione said softly, "I know it must be difficult and frustrating to be cooped up all the time and unable to go wherever you want without having someone else by your side. But please, you have to understand, someone wants you dead and multiple attempts have been made on your life."

Tristane continued to watch the clouds.

"Harry went through what you did as well," Hermione continued, her fingers playing with the quill. "People – well, Voldemort – wanted him dead and Harry needed to lay low and keep himself out of trouble. Of course, that never worked. Sirius – your uncle – had to stay hidden and was cooped up for quite some time, and it did not end well. I know freedom means a lot, and I'd hate it if my movements are restricted. But you see, you aren't able to duel, Tristane. You're still unable to hold your own in a fight. True, you are progressing and now are able to cast more spells than before – but nothing advanced yet to protect yourself. You really have to have one of us with you."

Tristane sighed.

"Alright," she nodded reluctantly, "I will try not to run off alone, okay?"

Hermione knew that was the most she could get out of the stubborn Slytherin. The Head Girl accepted it graciously, hoping that Tristane would stop sneaking off.

* * *

For the next couple of weeks after that incident (which Hermione kept a secret from both Draco and Ginny), Tristane did not attempt to sneak off on her own. Part of Hermione was relieved by it. The other part, however, was highly suspicious – there was no way someone having the infamous Black stubbornness would be docile.

Hermione was on her way back from patrol and was looking forward for her warm and comfortable bed. Her day had been tiresome – Flitwick had been sick and on his third day of resting in his quarters, being bored and restless, he decided to mark some papers. Due to his drugged state, he was rather clumsy and somehow managed to cause several of those papers to land into the fireplace. One of those papers was Hermione's, and Flitwick asked for her to rewrite it for him again, with the promise of lenient marking and given an extra ten days for it. Three other students who shared the same fate were overjoyed – they had not written their essays properly and now they had a chance to get a higher mark. If that was not enough to irritate Hermione, she had to deal with a sulking Peeves, who was still unhappy with her interference with his 'justice'. He had been causing troubles by switching students' books and items, causing havoc across the castle with students fighting and arguing about who stole what. It took the staff's concerted efforts to finally quell the mayhem. But not before Hermione had to stop at least thirteen of such fights.

She was now a woman on a mission: to seek safety and refuge of her bedroom, and to get Draco to give her backrubs. He was good with backrubs. Too bad he was equally lazy to do it.

As she approached a corner, she heard angry voices. Hermione groaned internally. What kind of duel must she be forced to deal with now? Could the heavens show her some mercy and let her rest for a bit? Why did nobody care? What mistakes had she committed in her previous life to warrant such a horrible day?

Hermione shook away those dramatic thoughts and told herself to focus. She could be dramatic later on in her quarters and whine at Draco. He usually would just feed her a large amount of chocolates just to shut her up. Good boy.

"…except that if you actually did what I told you to do exactly, that bloody trash would not be alive!" a high-pitched male voice sounded from around the corner.

Hermione stopped in her tracks. She quickly hid behind one of the armours, casting a Disillusionment charm on herself.

"Keep your voice down," another voice hissed angrily – it was a girl. "Do you know how difficult it was to get near that damn girl without getting scrutinised by the baboons surrounding her?"

The boy scoffed. "Even those sly Slytherins were focused on the match, you idiot. All you had to do was to apply the powder all over her body."

"But at least I managed to infect her arm," the girl countered. "She was hospitalised."

Hermione's eyes went wide – she realised that they were talking about Tristane. She quickly whipped out the Marauder's Map and searched for the names of the arguing persons.

"Look, grandfather asks us to do one simple thing which you can't do."

"Well, why don't you do it then?" the girl sounded irritated.

Fawley. Catherine and Sullivan Fawley. Hermione stared at the two names in front of her. Should she call in the cavalry and have them arrested? Or would that alert Patrick Fawley and may jeopardize whatever things Harry was working on?

"I can't," Sullivan growled. "I think that bloody girl figured out I was trying to read her mind. She looked at me, Cath. She knew it was me. I have to lay low. You're just a fourteen-year-old kid; nobody'll think you're trying to kill her. Look, grandfather only needs us to do one last thing. I'll be your support, but you're the one to do it."

"Why can't we just let her be? I mean, the Blacks will die out soon anyway. That girl is a useless witch. I'm sure she's not able to bring it back from the brink of destruction. We don't even have to lift a finger."

"Grandfather doesn't want the Blacks to be wiped off from memory, you fool," Sullivan hissed. "He just doesn't want someone as unworthy as her to lead the family. Look at what she's done – she managed to convince Malfoy to date a mudblood, of all people. His mother even rejected grandfather's offer of your hand in marriage in favour of that mudblood. How ridiculous. We pureblood are dwindling down, and instead of trying to fix the problem, they are exacerbating it. Can't you see it?"

Catherine sighed.

"Alright, I get it. You don't have to grip my arms so tightly, Sul."

The voices turned down and Hermione watched the two dots walking away, towards the Hufflepuff dorm, she assumed. Plans were forming in her mind. She suppressed the sudden need to laugh, thinking about how it used to be with Harry and Ron, the three of them sneaking and skulking about trying to crack a mystery, without involving the authorities. Now, Harry was part of the authority, and he would be mad if Hermione did not report such important findings to him.

Hermione turned and went to the Owlery. While she knew she should inform McGonagall first, cultivated habits of dealing with things with just Harry and Ron made her feel slightly uneasy to involve more than the three of them. Well, now it was just two. Such was life.

* * *

Hermione was sipping her butterbeer, eyes frequently darting to the Three Broomsticks' door. She was impatient – Harry was ten seconds late and counting. Besides her, Ginny rolled her eyes.

"He'll be here soon, 'Mione. It's not even a minute late yet."

Hermione sighed. She missed her best friend so much. Plus, she really wanted to discuss about what she overheard. She had not told Ginny yet for fear that the redhead would take matters into her own hand and reduce the two Fawleys to ashes. Harry had replied her letter two days after her sending it, asking her to meet him during the next Hogsmeade trip. Ginny asked to tag along, and Hermione shooed Tristane and Draco away. Draco happily obliged – he had no love for Harry, but Tristane was slightly miffed – she quite liked the quiet and easy-going man. Nevertheless, she disappeared with Draco to some Slytherin-only event in some part of the village.

Exactly three minutes and seventeen seconds later, the door opened, revealing a snow-covered Harry with a cowled figure in tow. Both of them approached their table, and Hermione felt a slight panic – was this cowled figure another Auror? Harry did not mention bringing another person and Hermione felt she would be uncomfortable discussing this with another stranger.

"Hello ladies, it's bloody chilly outside," Harry grumbled, getting into the booth. His cowled friend hesitated for a moment before following suit. Both Hermione and Ginny just watched them. Harry seemed to be expecting the cowled man to offer greetings of some sort and, when the cowled man stayed silent, Harry rolled his eyes and elbowed the man's rib. The man grunted and slowly took off his cowl.

Hermione gasped.

Ginny growled angrily.

Harry put his body in front of the man's, shielding him from Ginny's drawn wand.

"Look, I'm sorry I did not say anything about this earlier, but please, hear me out first. Lower your wand, Gin," he pleaded.

"Wait – you bought a new wand?" the man asked.

"Who gave you permission to open your mouth, Ronald?" Ginny snarled. Hermione had to pull her friend away from claiming Ron's head.

"Wait, Gin, too many witnesses around," Hermione murmured, low enough not to be heard by the rest of the pub, but loud enough that Ron could hear it.

Ginny gritted her teeth and pulled back. She withdrew her wand but kept it in her grip.

"Explain yourself, Potter," the redhead ordered.

"I know and I understand why you ladies are angry at Ron," Harry started quickly, "and I am angry at him too. He has been a moron lately and don't you dare to deny it, Ron," Harry added when Ron made a protesting noise. "Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, he contacted me and apologised. We had a talk. Basically, he is sorry. So I thought I should bring him along so that he can apologise to the both of you."

"I'm really sorry, Ginny and 'Mione," Ron said quietly. He sounded sincere. "I was a moron. Look, I know I've never been an easy person to get along with, especially with my temper. I never meant to hurt the both of you."

"Yeah, right," Ginny laughed derisively.

Hermione just stared at him coldly. He flinched.

"I know there's no excuse for what I have done to you both and I understand that none of you will forgive me so easily," he continued. "But I am truly sorry and I will make it up to you whatever it takes."

"Then go away – disappear from our sight," Ginny muttered.

"I shouldn't have been horrible to you, Gin," Ron took a package out from his robe. "I got this for you. Mum and dad don't know I took it."

Ginny looked at the rectangular package in front of her – dared she hope?

"Go on, open it," Ron encouraged her. "I know you must miss it."

"Wait, let me check it first," Hermione said, staying Ginny's outstretched hands.

Ron looked slightly hurt but he kept quiet watching Hermione muttering several spells.

"It's safe," announced Hermione. "Sorry Ron, I'm just being cautious."

"It's okay," he mumbled.

Ginny opened the package gingerly and gasped. She took her wand out of the box, shooting out a few sparks from it.

"I had George and Percy helped me," Ron said softly. He smiled looking at Ginny's reaction. "I knew mum and dad did not trust them both, so we planned that they were trying to steal your wand. I suggested that I hide your wand at another place - one of their acquaintances' – and they agreed. But instead, I went to Kingsley and asked for Harry and long story short, here we are."

"Do they know you've taken it?" Hermione asked.

"Maybe," Ron shrugged. "I don't really care – I realised that we've been too cruel to our own little sister. George and Percy moved out since then. I'm bunking at Grimmauld's place for the moment, so that mum and dad can't take your wand till I give it to you, Gin."

"Thanks, Ron," Ginny gave him a small nod. "You're an arse sometimes, but you're a good arse in the end. But don't think I can forgive you quite so easily."

"I know," Ron replied. "I'm not expecting any different. I also would like you to know that I don't care who you date, as long as you're happy."

Ginny shared a look with Hermione.

"You too, 'Mione," he added. "Even if you date that prat."

"That prat has a name," Hermione said coolly.

Ron looked like he'd rather swallow potion brewed by Voldemort himself than saying his next sentence, but he managed to let it out, "As long as Draco makes you happy."

"Alright, now that everybody has made up, let's get down to business," Harry interjected. "So, tell us what is this crucial information you have, 'Mione."

So Hermione told them what she overheard and, as expected, Ginny growled angrily and wanted to jump out and strangle the two Fawleys to death.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Ginny demanded.

"Because you'll be acting exactly like this," Hermione sighed. "We need to find out what this 'final plan' is, Gin. Can't have you murdering them before that or else grandpa Fawley will be able to get away with whatever it is."

"Well, how are we going to find out if they know we are on Tristane's side?" Ginny asked irritably. The redhead wanted action – not planning.

"Second Year, Slytherin common room?" Ron suggested.

Harry shook his head.

"We knew Malfoy would boast about it to his cronies, but I doubt these two Fawleys will actually share any devilish plans to anyone," he explained. "Hufflepuffs are not an evil bunch – I'm sure if they get wind of this, they'll be the first to tell McGonagall."

"What if you pretend to be the girl and ask Sullivan more details about the plan – say, to discuss it further or something?" Ron suggested again.

"One: we need someone skilled enough with Occlumency so that Sullivan won't be able to detect anything suspicious," Hermione replied. "Two: we need to figure out how Catherine acts, talks, and general habits. With Crabb and Goyle, we sort of knew them anyway. By the time we learnt how to act like Catherine, it might be too late. Three: if we manage to do it, how are we going to prevent Sullivan from discussing it with Catherine later on?"

Ginny groaned.

"Dealing with Voldemort was easier," Harry sighed.

"Either that, or we were pretty stupid that we would be daring enough to do foolish things," Hermione commented.

"What if we get Tristane to pretend to be Ginny and vice versa from today onwards? I mean, Ginny is skilled enough to protect herself in duels. Then if anything happens, Ginny can fight until help arrives," Harry suggested.

"And how will Tristane go about leading my Quidditch team, Harry dear? She can't fly. She doesn't understand Quidditch except that I am the best scorer in the world." Ron pretended to gag at this, earning a kick on the shin from Ginny.

"Well, for the time being, you girls try to figure out a way to investigate this. We'll investigate the old Fawley on our end."

"'We'?" Ron asked.

"Yes, 'we'," Harry nodded. "You have volunteered yourself to get into my taskforce because you are really worried for the safety of your sister's girlfriend, and you cannot stand to see injustice being done."

Ron looked flabbergasted. Ginny and Hermione giggled at his expression.

"But… but…"

"We are happy and touched to hear you volunteering and I, on behalf of my boss, accepts your offer. Thanks, Ron."

"Thanks, Ron," both girls echoed.

"Right. We'll be off now then. It's good to see you both," Harry hugged both Ginny and Hermione before dragging a speechless Ron away.


	29. Chapter 29

There are two types of people in this world: those who choose to define their own identities, and those who choose to be defined by their given identities. Those belonging in the first group tend to dominate the latter, and that is not because of the latter's lack of talents or will – it is simply because the latter is unable to break free from the gilded cages they choose to live in. For instance, these pitiful men surrounding my Lord's residence, stalking and spying, hoping to extract valuable secrets and information the House of Fawley keeps.

Fat chance.

Yes, they do possess talents and brilliance, but those pale to having the will to be oneself. These spies are just products of Hogwarts, with its unshakeable teachings and values that people are destined to be only one of four given categories: the brave, the cunning, the smart, and the kind. I am not like them – I neither a Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff. I am myself. I am who I am.

As long as I, Jerome the Butler, am around, there is no possibility they can win. I have been my Lord's most trusted advisor for a long time, trained by many fine minds money can buy. I managed to shield the family from Voldemort's terrible reign – what can a bunch of Ministry officials do? Granted, the defeater of Voldemort, Harry Potter, is among them, but without the presence of his brilliant tactician, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter is just another Ministry tool. I wonder, as I am walking along this particular path leading toward the Fawley residence, what is their perception of me? Am I just another faithful and dutiful servant? Am I seen as a more important figure that may hold the key to my master's plans? Or am I insignificant enough that they only do a simple background check on me?

A twig broke. I stop in my steps, turning to its direction. How interesting. Weeks of spying on my master with such meticulous and careful conduct, yet today, out of all days, they make a careless blunder? Mr. Potter, I am disappointed in you.

"Who is there? Show yourself," I call out. I'd like to see how they will respond to this unexpected situation.

Moments later, a brown cat appears from behind the thick bushes and sits on a rock, staring at me innocently.

"Meow?"

I chuckle. Not bad. They are quick-witted. They have a pretty skilled witch or wizard with them, able to quickly transfigure something into a cat with a non-verbal spell. Not only that, I am not even able to sense the spell being cast. There are not many in the Auror department who have such skill, and those who do have them have died, Alastor Moody being one of them. Interesting.

"Are you lost, little cutie? Do be careful, this area is dangerous and full of silent predators."

I continue walking toward the Fawley residence, carrying the bags of groceries with me. True, it is not necessary for me to bother myself going to town to get groceries, considering the large amount of supplies in the pantry. I have been walking to the shops twice weekly, getting only chicken and vegetables, with the occasional odd items here and there. Will they be easily fooled, thinking that there are only my Lord and I in the residence?

I stop in front of the gate and check my surroundings. Seeing that there are no muggles around, I mutter several spells and the gate swings open to greet me. What a farce. There are anti-muggle charms around the house, and I can just apparate inside. But unfortunately, I have to confuse the enemy. Mr. Potter, I honestly do not think you are able to see through my plans. You are an admirable young man, but with no constant threat on your life and having no passionate motivation to deal with your enemy, you can never defeat me. Your parents are avenged – you are now just an ordinary Ministry tool.

I go to the kitchen and leave the bags of groceries on the countertop. The house-elves will deal with them. Poor house-elves – for the time being, they are not allowed to roam around the house freely. If Mr. Potter spots them, then he will know there are more than two occupants in this house. It will ruin my master's plans.

I go to my master's study and knock once before I enter the room. My master is still reading his papers, just like what I advised him to do. He is sitting next to the windows, with the curtains drawn. I hope the spies can see us clearly. This will be fun.

"My Lord," I greet him, bowing.

"It is time, Jerome," his eyes do not leave the papers.

"I will not fail you, my Lord," I try my best to mouth the words clearly, so that Mr. Potter can read my lips.

My master sets his papers on the table and arranges them neatly – he can be quite anal when it comes to tidiness.

As he walks out of the door, with his back to the window, he murmured, "I received signal from Rita when you were out – the final stage is being completed as we speak. Enjoy your little excursion, but don't take too much time."

I say nothing, giving no indication to the spies that my master has spoken. I take out my wand and muttered a spell, turning this morning's papers into a Portkey. Did I mouth the spell clearly? I guess I'll just have to see it soon. I touch the Portkey and I get sucked into nothingness. I hope you won't disappoint me, Mr. Potter.

"Crap, he's getting away. Lilian, trace him," Lewis ordered urgently.

"Rightaway, boss," Auror Lilian frowned, deep in concentration, muttering spell after spell.

"Weasley, stay here with Hunter and keep watch at the old man. Don't break anymore twigs."

"Yes boss and sorry about that," Ron mumbled.

"Frank, go to Hogwarts and alert the Headmistress that something is afoot. I don't know what yet. Stay there and assist our man." The man in question nodded and disapparated moments later. "Potter, you're coming with Lilian and me."

Harry nodded, wand at the ready. The day was supposed to be the same like the previous three weeks – after all, that manservant had been following the same precise schedule.

"They're smart, trying to trap us into a lull and lowering our defenses," Lewis muttered. "Hunter, are you sure that Fawley said that it is time?"

"I've never been wrong before, boss."

Lewis swore.

"Boss, I've got the trace. Both of you, hold my hands," Lilian held out her hands to Harry and Lewis, who grabbed them without hesitation.

Harry felt the familiar feeling of being sucked into nothingness and moments later, he found himself staring at a dim and dirty deserted alley.

"Potter, stop daydreaming. Let's go," hissed Lewis, who was already on the move with Lilian leading.

Harry mumbled his apologies and chased after his teammates. He was tired – he barely had enough sleep for the past couple of months. Not only that, he had been constantly on the edge and constantly on the move. Was this an Auror's life?

Lilian stopped in her tracks. Lewis and Harry followed suit. In front of them were three different doors with the sign 'Welcome' on each. Harry had a sinking feeling. They were being led to a maze. Or, in this case, three mazes. Great. The last time he went to a maze, Voldemort regained a body and Diggory died. When Harry returned to the office later, he swore he would write 'mazes' as an allergy.

"Boss, I've got three equal traces," Lilian said uncertainly, pointing to three different directions. "All of them have the same magical signatures."

Lewis swore.

"That bastard wants to separate us. Not a chance. We'll take the left path. Lead on, Lilian."

"But boss, what if it's the wrong path?" Harry asked.

"Then we'll turn back and try the next two paths," Lewis answered simply. "I don't want the three of us to walk into some stupid trap."

Lilian opened the door and they stepped into the left maze, wands at the ready. It was, as expected, a dark maze. Where the maze during the Triwizard Cup was walled with plants, this maze was walled with bricks.

"Anti-apparition charm and confuse-the-pointer charm," Lewis muttered. "Great. That means we'll just have to go through without any point-me spell. I'll lead and Lilian, bring up the rear."

They managed to shuffle, which was quite a feat, as the path provided was narrow, allowing only one person to go through at any time. As they walked, writing suddenly appeared on one of the walls.

"You should've separated, now you're wasting your time," Harry read softly, holding his wand high to light the wall.

"Ignore it. Forward," Lewis ordered.

The maze was pretty straightforward. There were no forks or intersections, only one direction. After the eleventh turning, there was a long stretch of straight path, with a burning torch at the end. A silent figure was holding the torch. It reminded Harry of Dudley's games, where at the end of dungeons there would be a monster boss.

"Get ready," Lewis murmured.

Harry readied himself with a multitude of spells at the tip of his tongue, ready to be unleashed at a moment's notice.

When they neared the figure, Harry recognized him – it was the manservant that they were following. Lewis was right in not separating. This was the correct path.

"You are either foolish or this is a time-wasting tactic," Lewis called out to the manservant. "It is in your best interest if you surrender quietly."

The figure burst into laughter.

"My, my, is the current batch of Aurors this impolite? No introduction whatsoever?"

"There's no need to play nice with you scums," Lewis replied. He shot a spell without warning. The spell was absorbed by a shield in front of the manservant, who chuckled.

"Well, Mr. Potter, care to introduce your rude colleagues to me?"

Harry was startled.

"What are you, running for an election?" Lewis asked before Harry could say a word.

"No, I am just a lover of all things polite," the manservant used a pleasant and light tone. "I am Jerome, by the way. Butler of the House of Fawley."

"Say hello to Azkaban," Lewis replied, shooting several spells at once. From the rear, both Harry and Lilian shot their spells as well. But again, the spells were absorbed by the shield.

"For a butler, you're pretty competent," Lewis grumbled.

"For a rude Ministry stooge, you're pretty unskilled," Jerome replied.

"Attack!" Lewis ordered.

It was not an easy thing to fight in such a tight space. Harry had to ensure his spells did not hit or graze his boss, while trying not to get in the way of Lilian's spells as well. But Jerome was better than expected – he managed to avoid getting hit from their combined spells while at the same time returning fire.

"Duck formation," Lewis ordered.

For the umpteenth time, Harry wondered why the Aurors liked to give odd and unrelated names to their tactics and formations. The Duck Formation, in this case, was designed for situations where a team did not have much room to maneuver. Lewis, being in front, would shoot offensive spells while Lilian, being at the rear, would shoot defensive spells. Harry, in the middle, would only shoot spells when either Lewis needed a short break or if he got hit. What that tactic got to do with ducks, Harry would never understand.

Lewis suddenly grunted and fell to his knees.

"Boss!" Harry jumped over Lewis and took the lead, shooting spells at a laughing Jerome.

"Potter, he's got daggers," Lewis warned him, clutching his bloodied stomach.

Lilian muttered a spell and a large piece of wood, as high as Harry's chest, appeared in front of Harry.

"As much as I love toying with you three cuties, I was ordered not to waste my time. So I'll be generous and give you a clue," Jerome called out. "Jerome, as in, the real Jerome, is where he needs to be. You can't leave this area unless you defeat the three me, so I suggest you better hurry up, kill me, and kill the other two Jeromes in the other two paths. Have I told you that I can't be captured? Yes, your only choice is to kill me."

"Are you crazy?" yelled Harry, sending Stunners to Jerome, who evaded them easily.

"Why, Mr. Potter, I never knew you have such a soft heart even toward non-existent beings," Jerome chuckled, sending spells and a dagger at Harry, who managed to duck and avoid them. The dagger gave a sound 'twang' as it stuck itself on the wooden shield Lilian conjured.

"Potter, kill him," Lewis ordered. "He's not real."

Harry gave his boss a weird look. Was Lewis losing his mind?

"Don't be daft – he's an illusion. Remember the illusion master?"

Harry remembered. Oh yeah, now that made sense. Harry knew that in the career he chose to take, sooner or later he would kill someone. He'd rather avoid killing if possible. Avada Kedavra-ing an illusion was not killing anyone, so Harry was more than happy to do it.

They traded spells for a couple more minutes, with Lilian helping to shield Harry as well as trying to nurse the injured Lewis. Then, Harry saw his opening and shouted the killing spell without hesitation.

The green bolt of light shot out of his wand and it connected to Jerome's temple. As soon as that happened, the illusion disappeared and a golden door suddenly materialized behind the dropped torch. Harry turned his attention to Lewis, who was standing up.

"I'm fine, Lilian managed to close the wound," Lewis said gruffly. He seemed to be annoyed to get injured. "Let's go."

Harry nodded and the three of them walked toward the golden door. As soon as Harry's hand touched the knob, the maze disappeared and they were back at the entrance of the three paths. Except now there were only two doors.

"Shall we?" Lewis asked, holding the handle.

Harry took a deep breath, nodded, and followed his boss to the second maze.

"Weasley, I sense something," Hunter tapped Ron's shoulder once.

"What is it?"

Hunter tilted his head, seeming to be straining to hear something.

"We need to go now. Fawley has left – I sensed him disapparating."

Ron swore.

"I'm not good with tracking – Lilian is the master of that. Let's just go to Hogwarts. They're all bound to be there sooner or later," Hunter took out a tennis ball, a Portkey to McGonagall's office. He held it out to Ron, who gripped it.

The Headmistress was in a staff discussion with Professors Tonks, Delacour, and Flitwick when Ron and Hunter appeared in their midst, giving them a shock.

"Is everything alright?" McGonagall asked, first to recover from the mini heart attack. "Auror Frank was here an hour ago. He's guarding Miss Black, I believe."

"Where – " but before Hunter could finish his sentence, three loud booms were heard from the edge of the castle.

"Filius, alert the staff and get the students to stay in their dorms," McGonagall ordered, taking control of the situation. "Andromeda and Fleur, go to the Slytherin dorms and protect Miss Black; Mr. Hunter and Mr. Weasley, please come with me to secure the castle entrance. Hurry!"

Ron marveled – the wizened witch was still as formidable as she was a year ago during the Battle of Hogwarts. He jogged and followed her to the castle entrance, to protect against the invasion.

Hermione was on her way to the library with Neville, who was asking for her help to teach him a few complex Advanced Charms theories that he still could not understand, no matter how many times he read the related passages. They were walking along a deserted corridor when three loud booms were heard from the edge of the castle. Startled, they automatically withdrew their wands but did not realize spells were already casted at them from the shadows until Hermione fell on the floor.

"We only need the girl," a familiar voice said coldly. Hermione strained her neck, trying to see the speaker. "Tie the boy and hide him somewhere, but don't harm him. He's a pureblood."

Catherine Fawley. Damn it! Hermione felt like kicking herself for not realizing hidden danger in the corridor.

Hermione was blindfolded and, as she was losing consciousness, she fervently hoped that Draco and Ginny manage to hide Tristane away.

Draco was rummaging around his locker, looking for a clean shirt. He had just finished his personal Quidditch training, flying alone at the pitch. He was slightly annoyed at himself – he was trying to perfect the Trojan maneuver but he simply could not execute the finish properly. If it were not for having Advanced Transfiguration in fifteen minutes, he would skip class and continued practicing. But McGonagall would have his head as well as his badge if he did it.

Without warning, there were three loud booms.

"Tristane!" he swore.

Draco grabbed the nearest shirt and wore it and ran toward the door, grabbing his coat in the process. As he ran out the locker room, he did not notice figures hiding in the shadows and Draco never realized he had blacked out and fell on to the snowy ground.

Tristane was feeling relaxed. She was in the Slytherin dorm with Pansy, having 'girl's day'. Both of them were not scheduled to have any classes until late afternoon, so Pansy dragged Tristane to the dorm. Tristane was having cream and whatnot on her face, courtesy of Pansy – the latter insisted to 'beautify' Tristane and wanted to try some muggle techniques that she found on muggle magazines. Tristane just went along with it but drew the line at taking off her eye patch. They spent half an hour arguing and debating about it, but Pansy gave up when she realized she was unable to take it out – Tristane was not kidding when she said she was the only one who could take it off. Pansy had grumbled at that but grudgingly conceded.

Both witches were deep in their gossiping when the booms sounded. Startled, they immediately took the cucumbers off their eyes and grabbed their wands.

"What was that?" Tristane wondered.

"Whatever that was, I doubt it's anything good."

Just then the room door slammed open and a disheveled-looking Hermione entered.

"You're safe!" the Head Girl exclaimed in relief. She hugged a bewildered Tristane.

"What's going on, Granger?" Pansy asked.

"There's an attack – the professors are on to it. I'm here to bring Tristane to a safe house. Parkinson, I need you to drink this," Hermione took out a vial and offered it to Pansy. "It's a Polyjuice Potion. I need you to pretend to be Tristane and wait here – we suspect they're heading to the Slytherin dungeon. They won't be suspecting Tristane to be anywhere else."

"Where's Ginny?" Tristane tried to keep the panic out of her voice.

"Ginny is with Neville who's pretending to be you, Tris," Hermione explained, taking a strand of hair from Tristane and mixing it into the potion. "They're at Gryffindor Tower. Draco is doing the same but at my quarters. We're trying to confuse them and in the confusion we can hide you away."

Pansy took the vial and gulped it down.

"Clean your face Tris, and wear this," Hermione offered a black hoodie.

Tristane did as told and, once worn the hoodie, helped Hermione dressing Pansy to be an authentic Tristane.

"Don't forget that I suck at wandwork," Tristane reminded Pansy.

"If Blaise or the others comes in later, pretend that you're Tristane," advised Hermione. "You can tell them later on when the potion's effects runs off."

"Be safe, ladies," Pansy/Tristane hugged them both.

Tristane followed Hermione and jogged around the castle, keeping to deserted and empty corridors.

"I've told the Aurors guarding the Slytherin dungeon to guard the Head's Quarters, to make the enemy think you're hiding there," Hermione informed Tristane as they jogged.

Tristane just grunted, huffing and puffing, trying to keep up with Hermione. The Slytherin followed Hermione, hiding behind armors and statues when students, teachers, or ghosts passed by, and sprinting off when there were no places for them to hide. Somehow they managed to 'escape' from the castle undetected and before long they reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"There's an Auror waiting in the Forest for us. He's going to bring us to the safe house."

Tristane nodded and followed Hermione. They weaved their way through the Forest, not seeing or passing any dangerous creatures. Hermione seemed to know the area. Tristane assumed the Head Girl patrol the area frequently. After ten minutes, they reached a clearing and a lone figure was standing in the middle of it.

"Auror Jerome! We're here!" Hermione called to the lone figure, who raised a hand in acknowledgment.

Both witches approached the Auror, who was looking grim and tensed.

"Thank you for your help, Miss Granger," Jerome said quietly. "Can you please send the message for me? Miss Black, please wait here with me."

"I'll be back in a minute, Tris," Hermione assured the Slytherin.

Tristane nodded and stood next to the Auror awkwardly. What was she supposed to do in this situation? Her thoughts turned to Ginny and Draco, and she fervently hoped that both of them were alright.

Jerome raised his wand and muttered several spells. A transparent sphere materialized around them, about five metres in radius. Tristane admired the Auror's handiwork – the sphere, though transparent, had golden linings and they looked beautiful.

"Miss Black, please wait here. I need to strengthen the sphere," Jerome said.

Tristane nodded and watched the Auror walked out of the sphere and muttered more spells at the sphere. The sphere solidified, but was still transparent.

"Good job, Jerome," a voice said from behind Tristane.

Tristane turned and was met with an old man with a wide grin on his face.

"I believe we've not met before, Miss Black," greeted the old man pleasantly. "My name is Patrick Fawley."


	30. Chapter 30

Ginny was grinning like a Cheshire cat. She was in the Gryffindor common room, playing wizard's chess versus Demelza Robins, who was trying her best not to lose in just less than three minutes.

"It's better for you if you surrender now, Demelza," Ginny said cheerfully. "I've had years of practice with Ron. There's no way you can beat me."

"Where there is a will, there is a way," Demelza replied stubbornly.

"Check mate," Ginny announced triumphantly as her knight attacked Demelza's queen.

Demelza groaned.

"That is not fair," she grumbled. "I swear, one of these days I will –"

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

"What's that?" Demelza asked, startled.

Ginny's eyes widened in horror and she scampered to the entrance, shoving a Fourth Year aside roughly who was in the process of climbing in.

"There is no need to be rude," the Fat Lady berated Ginny as the redhead sprinted past the portrait.

As she turned to the left from descending the spiral staircase, a streak of red flew past her, just inches away from her eyes. Ginny immediately took cover behind a headless statue and yelled at Hannah Abott, who was across her, trading spells with several masked figures.

"What's going on, Hannah?"

"I don't know," Hannah yelled back, grunting triumphantly when one of her spells took down one assailant. "When the boom sounded, these guys appeared out of nowhere and started fighting us."

Ginny swore. She was certain they were after Tristane's head. She shot several spells and one hit an assailant's head and he slumped to the ground.

"Nice work, Gin!" Hannah shouted.

"I'm going off to find Tristane," Ginny yelled at Hannah as she retreated to the other corner.

Ginny swore again. She now had to take a longer route as the corridor was full of masked assailants. Where did they come from? How did they even come in? Why was no alarm sounded? What the hell was Mysterio doing all these time?

Ginny ran, dodged spells, and shot spells of her own as she made her way around the castle, aiming to get to the Heads' Quarters before the assailants got there. The scenes in the castle reminded her of just less than a year ago when Voldemort attacked Hogwarts. A sense of foreboding descended on her. Ginny's heart felt constricted. She willed herself to keep on moving onward. No. She would not allow tragedy to repeat itself. Tristane would not follow Fred's footsteps.

As Ginny ran past the Great Hall, she saw Blaise and Theo dueling with a masked figure near the Slytherin table. The redhead made her way to them and joined the duel, yelling, "Guys, where's Tristane?"

"She should be still with Pansy," Theo answered, sending the masked figure a black jet. The figure managed to dodge it.

"In the dorm," Blaise added, swearing at the masked figure.

Ginny thanked them and sent a Bat-Bogey Hex as she retreated from the area. When she looked back at them, the masked figure was writhing on the floor, and Theo's face triumphant. Ginny shook her head. She did not want to know what dark spell Theo used. As long as the job gets done, she supposed.

When Ginny neared the hallway leading to Slytherin dungeons, she swore again. The hallway was filled with students, teachers, and ghosts fighting masked figures. Trying to get past this would be next to impossible unless the masked figures were defeated. Should she join the fight or should she try to get inside by other means?

Ginny retreated to a safe corner and summoned her Firebolt. She needed to know that Tristane was safe first before she'd join the fight. Moments later, her broom arrived. She mounted it and flew past combatants, zig-zagging her way across the castle to the green goblin statue located on the fifth floor next to the staff toilet. Surprisingly, the area was empty. Ginny guessed that since they were after Tristane, the masked figures were only targeting areas that Tristane would most likely be.

Ginny checked her surroundings before whispering 'greed is good' in the statue's left ear. A second later, the statue hopped aside, revealing a hidden entrance underneath it. Ginny, still on her broom, flew into the entrance and made her way to the end of the passage. Ginny pointed her wand at the seemingly dead end and muttered 'Merlin found this passage'. When Merlin was a student, he sure was cocky. Bloody Slytherins.

The walls opened, revealing a tensed-looking Tristane with Bulstrode and Daphne. Ginny ignored their pointed wands at her and she flung herself to Tristane, hugging the one-eyed witch tightly.

"You're safe, I was so worried," Ginny breathed into Tristane's ear.

Tristane patted Ginny's back awkwardly.

"Never knew you have soft spots for me, Weaslette."

Ginny let go of Tristane and looked into her girlfriend's eye questioningly.

"What?" why did Tristane call her 'Weaslette'? Was something wrong?

"Aren't you supposed to be with Longbottom at Gryffindor tower or something?" Tristane asked her, ignoring the redhead's question.

Ginny was confused. Was she?

"Why would I be with Neville? I haven't seen him since this morning." Why were the three of them looking at her suspiciously?

Tristane exchanged glances with Bulstrode and Daphne.

"Can you prove that you're Ginny Weasley?" Daphne asked.

Now that was a weird question.

"What are you talking about? I _am_ Ginny. Come on, Tris, don't you recognize me? What the hell is going on? Look, I'm the only non-Slytherin who knows the secret passage. This is Harry's Firebolt." She shook the broom in her hand. "I dated you for a short while, Daphne, before I am with Tristane. What other information do you need?"

"Sounds legit enough for me," Tristane said, shrugging.

Bulstrode and Daphne grunted in agreement.

"Look, you're supposed to be with Neville, who is supposed to take the Polyjuice and pretend to be Tristane. The bad guys are after her. So we're supposed to confuse them by having several Tristanes while the real Tristane is with Hermione," Tristane/Pansy explained.

Ginny blinked once.

"Uh… aren't you Tristane?"

"I'm Pansy, Weaslette."

Ginny looked at her skeptically.

"Why would I lie? Here, I'll prove it," Tristane/Pansy said exasperatedly, pointing her wand at a nearby chair and transfiguring it to a hamster.

Ginny stared at the scampering hamster.

"You're good with spells. Oh. OH! Oh my god I hugged you!"

Tristane/Pansy rolled her eyes.

"If you're not with Neville, then who's with him?" Daphne asked.

"Crap. I don't know what's going on but I'll find out," Ginny mounted the Firebolt again and used the hidden passage, exiting from underneath the green goblin statue.

She flew around the castle, dodging stray spells and shooting out a few of her own toward random masked figures that she saw, hitting several of the targets. She was searching for McGonagall to ask what was going on, but could not find the Headmistress anywhere. Ginny let out a frustrated growl and flew back to the Great Hall – perhaps she would find success there.

The fight was still going on in the Great Hall. Ginny dismounted and took cover behind a pillar. She glanced around and spied Fleur and Andromeda dueling furiously with three masked figures. Ginny ducked and dodged stray spells and crossed the hall. She stood next to Fleur and joined the fray.

"Fleur, why am I not told of the plan?" Ginny yelled, sending a Stunner to one of the masked figure who expertly cast a Shield that absorbed it.

"What plan?" Fleur yelled back, dodging a green jet. The masked figures were not hesitant to kill, it seemed.

Ginny explained to Fleur and Andromeda what Pansy told her, earning her worried looks from the two professors.

"We haven't met Hermione yet," Andromeda yelled, shooting a Stunner to one of the masked figures. The assailant slumped to the ground.

"And we were having staff meeting when all these happened," Fleur added, her spell connected with another assailant, who was thrown to the wall by the impact. He too, was knocked out. "We were supposed to go to the Slytherin dungeon but we were attacked on the way and somehow we're here."

"Where's McGonagall?" Ginny asked, sending three spells in a row, all of which hit the third assailant.

"Here," a calm but firm voice said from behind Ginny, causing the three of them to turn around.

"Professor! I've been looking for you!"

As Ginny explained what Pansy had told her, McGonagall's face steadily morphed into concern, anger, and then cold fury.

"I was wondering why the Unspeakable assigned to Miss Black was busy fighting at the Astronomy Tower," the Headmistress remarked drily. "It seems that Fawley intends to confuse us and keeps us busy."

"Professors!"

All four turned their heads toward the entrance. A disheveled Luna Lovegood was leaning against the wall, struggling to remain standing, clutching at her bloodied side. Ginny sprinted to help her friend, hexing a nearby masked figure in the process. The three professors hurried over to Luna, taking down a couple of remaining masked figures.

"Professor! It's bad!" Luna struggled to breathe.

Fleur and Ginny supported the injured Ravenclaw. There was a blade wedged in Luna's abdomen, the source of the blood. Ginny swore.

"Professor!" Luna grabbed McGonagall's arm with one hand. "Tristane, Hermione, and Malfoy are captured. You have to help them! They're in the Forbidden Forest!"

"What? How do you know that?" Ginny had to stop herself from shaking Luna, desperate for her friend to spill the information.

"How do we know that you're not sent to mislead us?" Fleur demanded, suspicious.

Luna looked at Fleur with the dreamy gaze that was typically the Ravenclaw's and said, "Dobby rescued us from Malfoy Manor and brought us to Shell Cottage. You and your husband nursed us to health before sending us to Aunt Muriel's place."

The details of what happened during Dobby's heroic rescue were still kept by the survivors – none of them were willing to talk to the reporters or to the public. Nobody wanted to revisit those dark memories. Fleur tilted her head to the side, regarded Luna briefly before nodding.

"This is the genuine Miss Lovegood," the French professor announced. She then returned her focus on Luna, asking in an urgent voice, "Can you tell us briefly what happened?"

Luna nodded, taking a deep breath, fighting against the pain. "I was in the Forbidden Forest, looking for Nugwuports. They stars were in position last night and the Magical Beast Almanac shows the Nugwuports would be in mating season." Ginny saw that McGonagall tried her best not to ask about Nugwuports and the redhead could not help grinning at that. "I saw Nugwuports droppings and I followed it – the tribe must've known of my interest in them and decided to welcome me, see, that's why they left their droppings where I could see them. While I was trailing the droppings, I stumbled upon a clearing and in the middle of it there was this large transparent sphere. I saw Malfoy inside it. I think he was Stunned – he was lying unconscious. At first I thought he was behaving oddly, sleeping in the middle of Forbidden Forest when the Wrackspurts are having a territorial war with the unicorns. It is dangerous."

"Yet you find it perfectly logical to wander around the said Forest alone," muttered Fleur.

Luna stared at the French professor as if the latter was an idiot. "The Nugwuports invited me."

"Continue with Malfoy," Ginny interjected before the conversation ran off too far away.

"I was approaching him, intending to wake him up and tell him of the Wrackspurts' war. But as I came closer, three masked men attacked me. I somehow managed to escape and ran away. But about three hundred meters away, I stumbled upon the same sphere but this time, Hermione was inside."

The professors gasped while Ginny swore.

"Sorry, professor," Ginny mumbled a moment later. McGonagall did not seem to be listening.

"I tried to help her but again, I was attacked. So I decided to return to call for help but on the way, I came across another sphere, holding Tristane inside. I could not get near her because there were quite a few people nearby. One of them, an old, grey-haired man was shooting spells at Tristane. When I was running here to get help, I saw her managing to dodge the spells."

"Which part of the Forest?" Ginny asked, trying her best to keep the panic out of her voice.

Luna gestured to the southern end of the Forbidden Forest and Ginny immediately ran off toward the direction. Fleur swore and chased after her sister-in-law, passing the injured Luna to the Headmistress.

"Professor Delacour! Miss Weasley! Come back here, we must have a plan!" McGonagall called after the running figures, to no avail. She gritted her teeth. Not for the first time since accepting a teaching position at the esteemed wizarding school, Professor Minerva McGonagall was highly tempted to let out a multitude of expletives and down a pint or two.

"Professor Tonks, please wait a moment," McGonagall tried to catch Andromeda's arm but failed to do so.

"Sorry, Headmistress, I've got to save my niece and nephew," Andromeda yelled her apology as she ran toward the southern end of the Forbidden Forest.

A swear word was just at the tip of McGonagall's tongue. The temptation was too hard to ignore but the noble Headmistress managed to compose herself. Now where were Mister Weasley and that Auror Hunter?

* * *

Patrick Fawley looked at Jerome, who seemed highly amused.

"Why did you do that?" Fawley did not bother to keep out irritation from his voice. While Jerome had always produced outstanding results, the butler had a rebellious streak and could be quite exasperating at times.

Jerome bowed at his employer, smiling as he did so.

"I just thought it would make things more interesting, my Lord," the butler explained. Jerome had allowed the blonde Hogwarts student who somehow stumbled upon the clearing to escape toward the castle. "I'd like to see whether she can run to the castle and sound the alarm or drop dead before she reaches it."

"You bastard!" Tristane yelled at them, pounding at the sphere. "You didn't have to throw the dagger at her!"

Jerome turned his gaze to Tristane and smiled innocently.

"My dear, it was necessary. How else would I be able to get your esteemed professors to take this threat seriously? After all, my master would like them to witness how foolish of them to allow a usurper to be at the helm of the Black family."

"Jerome, you really do love your theatrics," Fawley remarked drily.

The butler merely smiled.

"Well, we shall see whether any of your…cronies will be in time to witness you dying or only be able to see your cold, dead body."

Fawley shot another spell at Tristane, who was barely able to dodge it. The spell grazed her arm and the witch bit her lips, stopping herself from crying out in pain.

 _What are you waiting for, human? Why are you not releasing my powers yet?_ Muzkon was puzzled with her behaviour.

"Just a bit more, Muzkon," Tristane whispered. "I want the Aurors to witness that whatever I will be doing is for self-defence. The Ministry still thinks I am Voldemort's evil incarnate. Please, just help to keep alive for the time being."

 _As you wish. This is a dangerous game,_ he warned.

"I know," Tristane acknowledged, ducking in time to dodge yet another spell.

This was tiring.

* * *

Harry hobbled over to his left shoe and tried to regain his breath. They had just killed off the last of the three Jerome illusions, with Harry throwing his left shoe to distract Jerome who was not expecting non-spells attack, and Lilian executing the Killing Spell. Shortly after, a green vortex appeared at the place where Jerome's body disappeared. Harry tied his shoe and looked at his boss who was examining the vortex.

"Hurry up, Potter, we have to catch that madman," Lewis said.

Harry grunted and followed after Lewis and Lilian, who disappeared into the vortex.

The other end of the vortex was familiar to Harry – the area was dark, crowded with large trees. It was dead silent save for the sounds of their footsteps. The place looked foreign to Harry, but yet it felt familiar. Where were they?

"Lilian, figure out our location," Lewis ordered. He scanned his surroundings and raised his wand at the ready. From which angle would the next opponent attack?

The air felt eerie and heavy. Memories that Harry was trying to supress and lock behind solid walls flooded out unbidden.

"We're at the Forbidden Forest," Harry knew his guts were correct.

Lilian looked at him in surprise.

"Harry's right, boss," she confirmed a moment later. "We are at the eastern side of Forbidden Forest."

Lewis swore.

"It was a set up! That bastard drew our attention away. He knew that we were watching the house. Do any of you remember how to get to the castle quickly from here?"

"Yes," Harry now remembered. He was at this part of the woods years ago, riding on a centaur's back. No wonder the place felt familiar.

Harry led them through the woods, letting his memories of that night resurfaced to aid his directions. Shortly after, they reached a fork and as Harry turned to the right, they heard shouts and screams from the left. Harry recognised one of the voices. He felt his blood froze. He promptly turned to the left fork and ran as fast as his feet could carry him, praying to whichever gods above to not let his worst fear come true.

"That way leads you to Hogwarts!" Harry yelled at Lewis and Lilian. He would apologize to his boss later on.

Harry muttered _Reducto_ as he ran, blasting any rocks, trees, and bushes that were on his way. He swore he would kill Jerome for real if something happen to Hermione.

A couple of minutes later, Harry neared a clearing and saw a battle occurring in front of his eyes. In the middle of the clearing was a rather large solid and transparent sphere, with Hermione trapped inside. She was doing her best dodging spells, and there was a gash on her cheek. She held no wand, presumably taken away from her. Around her, outside of the sphere, there were masked figures dressed in black, duelling with Aurors, Hogwarts staff, students, and even a few house elves. Harry spotted Ron trying to break the sphere by knocking it and the Boy Who Lived went to his side immediately.

"You're late to the party, Harry," Ron shouted.

Harry just grunted and cast a Shield on Hermione, deflecting a spell directed at her.

"Thanks, Harry. You're bleeding," remarked Hermione.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"You look dashing as well, 'Mione," he gave her a wry grin.

Next to him, Ron swore at the sphere and muttered a couple of hexes. The spells went through the sphere leaving no effect and Hermione had to jump away to avoid them.

"Oh crap, sorry 'Mione, I didn't mean that!" Ron apologized, his face white.

"Step back, let me handle this," Lewis' gruff voice came from behind the boys.

"Boss! Why are you here?" Harry was surprised. Lewis must have been a fast runner to be able to circle the castle that quickly.

"Do you think I'd let my man run off on his own to who knows where?" Lewis gave Harry an annoyed look. "Your hot-headedness will one day be your downfall, Potter."

Harry mumbled his apologies, which Lewis waved away.

"Potter, shield your friend here from stray spells and Weasley, cover my back."

Lewis focused his concentration on the sphere and took out a chalk from his robe pocket. He drew symbols after symbols, muttering something that suspiciously sounded like incantation in the meanwhile.

"Is that… the Rune of Liquidity?" Hermione asked, momentarily forgetting the situation she was in.

Without stopping his incantations, Lewis nodded. After drawing seven symbols, he took out a dagger – the dagger that injured him a few hours previous – and lightly slit his palm. He then wiped his blood onto the seven runes, which lit up.

"Close your eyes," Lewis warned.

The warning came not a moment too soon, as the next second a bright flash of light exploded, blinding those unfortunate enough not to close their eyes. As sudden as the light came, it disappeared without warning as well.

"It's alright now," Harry heard Lewis said.

Harry opened his eyes and the sphere was gone. He immediately pounced on Hermione, hugging her tightly. Ron followed suit and the three of them had a group hug.

"You bastard, where are Draco and Tristane?" Harry heard a familiar voice yelling.

Harry released his hug and turned. Blaise was kicking viciously at a masked figure lying on the ground. The battle had ended in their surrounding – the blast of light must have blinded them. Countless masked figures were writhing on the ground, clutching and moaning at their eyes. Unfortunately, many Aurors, Hogwarts staff, and students were in the same situation as well.

"Wait, are Draco and Tristane taken as well?" Hermione asked, terror evident in her voice.

"There are two other spheres," Lilian rose from the ground, wincing in pain. She pointed to the north and then to the south.

"Good job, Lilian. Alright, Potter and you, Miss Granger, go to the north. Weasley and I will go to the south. The rest of you, sort out among yourselves who'll take these worthless bastards to the castle and who'll go to the north and south. Come on, we're wasting time," Lewis grabbed Ron's arm and moved to the south.

"Harry, how does he know who is at which side?" Hermione asked, following Harry who grabbed a wand from one of the writhing masked figures and offered it to Hermione.

"I don't think he knows, but we'll save whoever we stumble across. Here, use this wand. I assume yours is lost?"

Hermione accepted the proffered wand gratefully. "Yes, when I woke up my wand was gone. I don't know where it is but we can sort it out later."

They jogged to the north and behind them Blaise and a couple of Aurors followed suit.


	31. Chapter 31

_**Hi everyone, I am so sorry for the absence. Things had been quite hectic all of a sudden and I did not have time to write. My most sincere apologies to make you wait, but here's another chapter. I hope that the next chapter won't be delayed *cross fingers* I hope you enjoy the story.**_

 _ **Usual disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.**_

* * *

Draco writhed, groaned, and trashed about in his transparent spherical cage. Tears flowed freely from his eyes, with the occasional incoherent words tumbling out of his mouth. An amused Rita Skeeter loomed over the sprawled figure of Draco, observing him with naked curiosity in her eyes.

"Well, well, Mister Malfoy," Rita greeted the unconscious Draco, "I hope you are enjoying this special cage we've made for you." She giggled, as if she found the whole situation to be hilarious. "This is my brainchild – not the cage, of course, but the way the cage works. Anyone trapped inside will be rendered unconscious, and past memories will resurface, even those hidden in the depths of hell. It's amazing, isn't it? I can get wonderful interviews with people, including those who are experts in lying while under Veritaserum influence. This way, nothing can be hidden from me. This is how journalism should be, don't you agree?"

Just then, Draco whimpered softly, "Aunt Bella, please stop. Please don't do this to her anymore. Let Hermione go…"

Skeeter grinned and clapped her hand jubilantly. She quickly took a piece of parchment and her Quick-Quote Quill from her satchel, ready for another piece of scandalous news.

"I knew there was something going on at that mansion of yours," she giggled to herself. She then cooed at Draco, saying in a velvety tone, "What did Bellatrix do to that girl, Mister Malfoy? Go on, do tell, there's no need to be shy. The public deserves to know the truth."

Draco just whimpered.

"Mister Malfoy, did your aunt torture your girlfriend?" Skeeter tried to coax him again.

When Draco started sobbing, Skeeter sighed.

"Well, how about if I write 'Bellatrix Lestrange, advocate of a pure wizarding Britain, subjected the foxy muggle-born girl, who climbed the social ladder by sleeping with the famous hero who slain the Dark Lord, to a well-deserving set of tortures. This muggle-born later on managed to guilt trip Lestrange's only nephew and, in the hope of atoning his family's social sins, allows this power-hungry muggle-born to sleep with him.' What do you think of that, Mister Malfoy?"

The unconscious Draco gave her no answer.

"Well, thank you for granting me an interview," she giggled. "I can't wait to publish this. I think I shall start in France and Ireland."

"Oh no you don't!" an angry voice yelled from Skeeter's back and, not waiting for the journalist's reply, a red jet hit Skeeter to the back of her head.

Skeeter fell to the forest floor with a satisfying 'thump'.

An angry Hermione lead the attack, Stunning at least four masked figures at once. Draco's captors were slow to react and half of their numbers were cut down before they could defend themselves. Hermione ran to Draco and kicked the slumped figure of Rita Skeeter.

"I've always hated this cow," Hermione muttered to herself. She then turned to Harry and Blaise. "Both of you, cover me. I'm going to release Draco."

"Wait, do you know what to do?" Blaise asked, shooting a spell at a nearby masked figure, who was thrown to a tree.

"Are you doubting me, Blaise?"

Blaise shrugged. "Just checking. Go do your thing, I'll watch your back."

" _We_ will watch your back," Harry joined in, punching a wandless masked figure that tried to jump on him.

Hermione looked around and Transfigured a small pebble to a chalk. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and brought to the front of her mind the memory of memorizing what Lewis did. Opening her eyes, she started to draw the same exact runes that Lewis drew while chanting at the same time. Harry could not help smiling looking at what he called 'Hermione's Brainy Face'. That face saved his life countless times.

Harry turned his focus on the enemies and was surprised he could bring them down easily. His Auror training paid off, it seemed. He glanced at Blaise and admired the Slytherin's fighting style. If only the Slytherin house stood by his side during the Battle of Hogwarts… Harry shook his head. The past had gone. Hermione was on friendly terms with them, and he trusted her judgment.

Before long, Fawley's lackeys were subdued. Harry glanced at Hermione, who was still drawing symbols on the transparent sphere. He walked over to Skeeter and bound her with a rope.

"Zabini, can you start binding them with ropes?"

Blaise nodded and walked over to the nearest masked figure, binding him with a rope. They methodically unmasked Fawley's lackeys, bound them with rope, and collected their wands. A bright light suddenly flashed, nearly making Harry jump. He was fortunate to be facing away from the source of light. The same could not be said with Blaise and most of the others.

"A little warning next time, 'Mione," Harry chided his best friends gently.

He glanced at the Head Girl, who was already cradling Draco's head in her arms. Harry made his way to the pair and instantly regretted it when Draco opened his eyes and immediately pulled Hermione close for a kiss.

"Ugh. Can't you at least wait," Harry grumbled and stood beside them awkwardly.

"Too chicken to see people kissing, Potter?" Draco teased weakly.

"No, no, don't you start a fight," Hermione warned.

"I am defenceless, my love," Draco protested.

"Well then I suppose you should follow Auror Nash back to the castle with the prisoners," Harry said.

"Where are you going?" Draco narrowed his eyes, suspicious.

"To rescue your cousin, of course," replied Harry.

Draco made an angry sound and struggled to stand.

"Draco, what are you doing?" Hermione asked while helping Draco to balance himself.

"I am following you to save Tristane. What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

Hermione grabbed his wrists, preventing him to charge off by himself.

"You can hardly stand without aid," she was exasperated. Why were boys so stubborn?

"I'm not letting a madman kill her. Let me go, Hermione!" Draco's voice was starting to get hysterical.

Harry tapped Draco's shoulder and offered him a wand.

"You can't save her without a wand," Harry avoided Hermione's deathly glare. "I can't find your wand, sorry, but I think this would do for the time being."

Hermione threw her hands up in the air, grumbling as she walked away, "Fine, but don't come to me when you're in pain!"

Harry and Draco shared a glance and quickly stifled their laughter before Hermione could hear it.

* * *

The onslaught of spells was a never-ending nightmare, coaxing despair and hopelessness to rise to the surface, reducing that bright fiery ray of life to a mere candle flickering in a storm. Tristane was curled up in a foetal position, protecting her vital organs as best she could. Tears streamed down from her eyes, but her screams were held by her tongue. Muzkon had been exerting his powers to minimize the damage and alleviate most of the pain, but until Tristane allowed him to take over her body in full, he could only do so much. At this point of time, the only thing that kept her going instead of surrendering her will to live was revenge for her father.

"You know," Patrick's voice was clear amidst the onslaught of spells, "I have to admit that you are better than your mother. Perhaps it is the wizarding blood that is unfortunately running through those dirty veins of yours. I mean, what other reasons are there to explain you being still alive right now? Your mother, on the other hand…"

Tristane looked up to her tormentor, who took his time sauntering over to her, kneeling just outside the transparent sphere. He had a genuinely happy look on his face. He leaned down as far as he could and whispered, "She couldn't even take three Crucios. Jerome here had to magically 'help' prolong her life."

Tristane snarled. She tried to distract her thoughts by thinking of something else.

Enjoying Narcissa's cookies together with Ginny; watching Ginny's next Quidditch match; deciding on a Valentine's present for Ginny which she still was having problems with; getting Draco to massage her feet – they hurt.

"It's quite interesting, to see your mother having seizures from those spells – funny how mudbloods could not withstand simple spells – while my dear Jerome was on her, enjoying her body. You know, she was quite flexible with the – "

Tristane roared.

 _Young lady, do not give into your emotions. My strength can and will devour you,_ warned Muzkon. _Either let me take full control, or not at all. We can't fully merge yet. You are not strong enough._

Ignoring Muzkon, Tristane jumped and charged at the sphere, drawing – no, demanding – energy from the being that her body was hosting. She tore off her eyepatch and punched the sphere repeatedly.

"Are you this dumb?" laughed Patrick. "This sphere is impregnable."

Tristane punched it harder, ignoring the blood that started to flow from her hands. A crack started to form on the sphere, shocking the onlookers, especially Patrick.

"That's not possible," he whispered to himself. He turned to Jerome and ordered, "Kill her."

But Tristane somehow managed to dodge killing spells from the two men and within moments she broke free. With lightning speed, she roared, tackling Patrick to the ground and started punching him.

"…Tristane?"

Tristane froze. She had been so lost in her emotions that she did not know what she was doing. The bodies of the masked assailants adorned the forest floor. Blood was everywhere. The butler – his name was Jerome, if she was not mistaken – was lying atop a nearby boulder at an awkward angle, his right foot a couple of metres away from him. The sight sickened Tristane. She then realized she was holding Patrick by the collar with one hand, his face nearly unrecognizable from whatever actions she gave him. With her other hand, she held an eyeliner pencil (where on earth did _that_ come from, she wondered) which was just an inch away from Patrick's right eye. What was she intending to do the eyeliner pencil?

Tristane looked up and saw a pale-faced Ginny staring back at her with a pair of horrified eyes. Ginny's was the voice that managed cut through Tristane's sea of emotions, the voice that brought the one-eyed witch back to sanity. There were a quite a few other people with the redhead including Andromeda, who looked as horrified as Ginny was.

Tristane released her grip on Patrick, who fell to the forest floor with a thud. She stared at the eyeliner pencil in her other hand and, as if mesmerized, slowly opened her palm and watched the pencil fall on to the ground in a slow motion. She then looked up again at Ginny, who had not moved.

"I… I…" words failed Tristane. She had no idea what she was supposed to say. What happened exactly? She remembered being angry, being in pain, wanting to die…

Without warning, a great pain came to her, bringing Tristane to her knees. She could not breathe. Her lungs were on fire. Her skin, oh her skin, how could she take off her skin? Tristane was not aware she had started convulsing on the ground while trying manically to claw off her own skin.

"Tristane, oh Merline, what's going on?"

Tristane could hear her lover's voice near her ears, worried. Was Ginny next to her now? Wait – why were her visions dark? Tristane started to panic and tried to call out to Ginny but could not form intelligible words. What the hell was going on?

"We need to get her to Madam Pomfrey," Ginny was hysterical. That sound tore Tristane's heart and she wanted nothing more than to wrap Ginny in her embrace to calm the redhead down. But Tristane could not do anything aside from convulsing uncontrollably.

"Miss Weasley, please move away from her," a crisp voice said. "You might get hurt. Let us handle this."

Who said that? There was no way she would hurt Ginny!

"No!" Ginny yelled. "She needs the hospital, not you Aurors! Get away from me or I swear I will – "

What Ginny would do Tristane never knew, as precisely at that moment Tristane felt her heart was being squeezed tightly, in the grip of an iron hand.

That was the breaking point.

* * *

The waiting hall had several empty chairs but Ginny refused to sit on any of them. She was adamant to sit on the floor just right next to the Critical Chamber One door, wanting to be as near to Tristane as she was allowed to. Initially, she had insisted on being in the chamber but was held back by Hermione, Fleur, and Blaise.

"Gin, love, Tristane needs full attention from the Healers. You'll just be in their way if you're in the operating theater," coaxed Hermione gently, which Ginny reluctantly obeyed.

"It's not a theater, 'Mione, we're not watching a play," Ginny mumbled.

Ginny had shrugged off everybody's attempts at getting her to rest and wait on at least one of the chairs a few metres away from where she set camp.

Hours previous, Madam Pomfrey urged the Headmistress to bring the unconscious, but still convulsing, Tristane to St. Mungo's and the Hogwarts Mediwitch felt that it was beyond her skills. So McGonagall, with Ginny who was carrying Tristane in her arms, set off for St. Mungo's. Andromeda, Fleur, Draco, Hermione, Harry, Blaise, Ron, and Neville followed, to McGonagall's futile objections.

Ginny stared at the floor, wondering idly if it was house-elves who cleaned it and if it was, whether Hermione would raise a fuss to whichever Healer was in charge. The redhead was brought out of her reverie when she felt someone sitting next to her on the floor. Ginny turned her head and looked at a tired Fleur. The Veela offered her a steaming cup of tea.

"If you get sick as well I will have to answer to more than fifteen persons, including my dear husband," Fleur teased gently.

Ginny took the cup and sipped it. It just occurred to her that she was, in fact, thirsty.

"Thanks," she said softly.

Fleur made herself comfortable on the floor before saying, "They're having a shouting match at McGonagall's office right now."

Ginny just nodded listlessly, staring at the steam that was coming out of the cup.

"Don't worry, we won't let the Ministry take Tristane," Fleur said gently. "Even Ron is on your side."

Ginny nodded again and took another sip.

"Her eye, the one that's supposed to be blind," Ginny started, "it was red, Fleur. The whole thing was red. And glowing. Fawley must have done something to her until it's like that. It's not Tristane's fault. So why would the Aurors want to take her away? That's stupid."

"I know, Gin, I know," Fleur was trying to comfort her sister-in-law. "Harry has threatened to go to the press if his boss still insists on taking Tristane for custody."

"I bet Lewis is unhappy about that," chuckled Ginny.

"Hence the shouting match."

They sat in silence after that, occasionally sipping their cups of tea. Ginny was thankful there was someone who accompanied her waiting. As both Draco and Hermione were prisoners of the spheres, they were sent off to other Healers. McGonagall dragged Harry, Blaise, Ron and Neville back to Hogwarts. Andromeda had set off, muttering needing to coordinate things with her sister and something about 'making those goddamn portraits spill the beans', whatever that meant.

It was two hours later when the Critical Chamber One door opened, revealing an exhausted-looking Healer Ruther, head of the healing team in charge of Tristane. Ginny, who was on the brink of falling asleep, had jumped up, anxious.

"Are you her family?"

That question nearly blinded Ginny with murderous rage. Fortunately, Fleur was there to grip Ginny's hand from pointing her wand.

"I am Professor Delacour on behalf of Hogwarts," Fleur said coolly. "What is the status of my student?"

Healer Ruther cast a quick look on Ginny before deciding that the presence of Hogwarts' representative was good enough.

"She is out of the woods but requires close monitoring. It was a difficult procedure – she was subjected to numerous dark spells but for some reason she managed to delay the effects for nearly an hour before succumbing to them."

Ginny was gripped with cold fear. This did not sound good. She felt Fleur's hand on her back, steadying her.

"Majority of the population subjected to a similar amount of dark spells would've died within minutes," he continued, "but your student managed to do what less than five percent would – staying alive."

"She has strong constitution," Ginny blurted out.

"That she does," Healer Ruther nodded. "We will be placing her in one of our Critical Care Wards, and I will be personally in charge of her. If you'll excuse me, I have to return to my patient."

Ginny looked at Fleur with tears in her eyes.

"She's alive, Fleur, she's alive," Ginny whispered.

She hugged Fleur tightly.

"She is alive."

* * *

Ginny held Tristane's cold hand in her warm ones. The one-eyed witch was still unconscious, but Ginny was thankful that Tristane at least was not convulsing and screaming in pain anymore. Ginny raised her head when a knock on the ward door sounded. A moment later, it opened quietly and Bill slipped inside.

"You look like crap," he observed, a hint of worry in his eyes.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Are you here to make such an intelligent observation?"

Bill gave her a wry smile and massaged her tensed shoulders.

"Go get some rest and eat something," he said firmly. "I'll be here to watch over her."

"I'm fine, Bill," Ginny insisted.

Bill said nothing. With lightning speed, he gathered Ginny in his arms, marched out of the room as quietly as possible, and deposited her on the floor right outside of Tristane's room.

"Don't come back till you look better."

He closed the door in her face and Ginny could hear the unmistakable sound of the door locking. Ginny wanted to yell at Bill but heard a chuckle behind her. She whipped her head and glared at Fleur who was trying her best not to descend into a fit of laughter.

"He's right, you know," she helped the indignant redhead to her feet. "I don't think Tristane would appreciate it to find you hospitalized due to exhaustion when she wakes up."

Ginny just huffed, knowing that both Bill and Fleur were right.

"Don't worry, I am not taking you away from her," Fleur said gently. "I just want to make sure you've eaten something and have some rest before returning to her side."

With reluctance, Ginny followed Fleur to another room nearby. The Malfoys had promised to build another research wing for St. Mungo and in exchange (or in Deputy Head Healer Thomson said "as gratitude") the Malfoys would always have their own private ward as well as private 'waiting room'. Hence Tristane's special treatment. Money ruled the world indeed.

The special private waiting room was empty. Hermione and Draco were still not discharged yet, it seemed. Fleur gestured for Ginny to take a seat while she tinkered around in the kitchenette. Ginny shook her head at the sight of it – the room held a kitchenette, a small bathroom, a small dining table, and two sofa beds. Just like a studio apartment. The last time Ginny had to be in St. Mungo's for more than an hour was when her father was admitted there, and waiting room meant a hallway filled with plenty of chairs shared with twenty other visitors. Money was an amazing thing.

"Here, I've warmed it up for you. Bill brought it with him just now," Fleur set the plate in front of Ginny. There was roasted chicken, salad, and a small bowl of mushroom soup. Ginny could not help smiling. Hermione would hate to see the soup.

"Thanks," the redhead took a spoonful of the soup. The warm liquid was comforting. It was no wonder that Bill was her favourite brother.

"I've got your clothes in the bathroom," Fleur sat in front of Ginny, watching the redhead eat. "Once you've cleaned up, I want you to have some rest. A nap, at least, if you can't sleep."

Ginny just nodded. She never knew that she could be this hungry. When was the last time she had a meal? She could not remember. It seemed like an eternity had passed. So much had been happening. She was so into gobbling up her meal that she jumped a little to see Hermione and Draco had joined them at the table.

"Have some mercy on my poor, frail heart!" Ginny nearly spat her food out.

"Glad to see that food is more important than us, Weaslette," Draco drawled. He winced when Hermione kicked his shin.

"Ignore the dolt, Gin. I'm glad you're eating," Hermione smiled at the redhead.

"Like I said before, I am happy to see the both of you are discharged, but I need everyone to get out and let Ginny have a little rest," Fleur sounded unhappy, glaring at Ginny. Wait, no, glaring at people _behind_ Ginny.

Ginny turned around and saw the couches were filled with people. She must have been so engrossed with her food that she did not hear people coming in. Either that, or her brain was exhausted to function properly.

"Well, tell that to these two," a grumpy Lewis pointed at both Andromeda and Narcissa, who stared at him daggers.

"I won't let you take my niece away without any solid reason," growled Andromeda. Beside her, Narcissa gripped her wand tightly and Ginny was trying to figure out the time it would take for the Healers to patch up everybody should a fight break. Turning to Ginny, Andromeda said, "This idiot wants to throw Tristane to Azkaban when she has done nothing wrong."

"That's hogwash! She is dangerous. Didn't you see what she did?" Lewis raised his voice.

"I still do not see why you lot have to barge in and disturb Ginny's rest," Fleur interjected.

"I have given orders to stay the imprisonment until we have established her innocence," Kingsley was the only one looking calm in the room. "Unfortunately I am unable to delay it for too long and two days have passed. As much as I'd rather you to have some rest, Miss Weasley, it is important that we have this…discussion. I've gathered here those who I believe are helpful with information to present their argument and, should it be established that Miss Black is, indeed, innocent, the Aurors will drop their charges."

"So she's guilty until presumed innocent?" Ginny was pissed. Hermione held her arm firmly, preventing the redhead from reaching her wand.

"I know she's bedding you but by golly, I'd never thought you to be blind, Weasley," Lewis looked unaffected by the fact that everyone bar him and Kingsley were reaching for their wand, their faces murderous. Even McGonagall had difficulties in controlling her temper. "Let me lay this out for all of you: Black has been known all these while to be weak magically, bordering on being a Squib. Yet she managed to break that spherical cage by herself, killing four, gravely injuring five, and was on her way to either mutilate Fawley or kill him. Also, her eye was red and glowing. But right now, as verified by the Healers, that particular eye is as dead as a piece of rock. Plus, all of you here seem to forget that the House of Black is notorious for being followers of the Dark Path. Madam Malfoy and Professor Tonks, I think the both of you can attest to that."

"Hey! It was Fawley who was torturing her! One of his spells must've caused her eye to react that way," Draco shouted. As much as Ginny would love to see Lewis being hexed to oblivion, it would not help Tristane in any way. So the redhead helped Hermione to hold Draco back.

"It is widely known that when one's life is in danger, one can have a surge of power and adrenaline to get out of tight situations," Hermione stated. "This applies with Tristane."

"Be honest with us, Madam Malfoy and Professor Tonks. Are you hiding anything from us about your beloved niece? Her hidden, dark powers perhaps?" Lewis stared at them grimly.

"We've told you that there's no prophecies regarding her," Narcissa was playing the part of a furious Ice Queen perfectly, with her tone that could cut diamonds cleanly. "My niece is not a child of prophecy – she is an ordinary witch, just like everybody else in this room. Except perhaps for you, Mister Potter."

"And why should I believe you? This is your niece at stake. You can be lying," Lewis asked aggressively.

"And what are you trying to imply?" Narcissa asked haughtily.

"Even if tonight we find her to be innocent, I swear if you hide anything I will find it and bare all for the world to see. You know my reputation, Madam Malfoy. That's why for years your departed husband lobbied hard that I'd be posted far away and to never be allowed to transfer to the Auror department. I'm the best hound. I will find what's hidden. Are you going to do what he did and get the Ministry to send me back to the North Korean border?"

"Nobody is going to send anybody anywhere," Kingsley interjected. "Lewis, I need you to stay professional and Madam Malfoy, please answer his questions truthfully."

"I don't see why you won't allow me to administer Veritaserum," grumbled Lewis.

"This is not an official hearing," a hint of impatience could be heard in Kingsley's voice. "We are having a civilized discussion."

Lewis snorted. "Fortunately for me, if I am not convinced of her innocence, I can take her away to Azkaban and try her for a bunch of charges including murders, attempting murder, torture, and misleading the Ministry about her character."

It took everybody in the room to hold back Ginny, Draco, Andromeda, and Narcissa.

"I can assure you that my student is harmless," McGonagall said firmly. "She is unable to kill a fly, let alone harm others. She does not have that strength."

"But the evidence proves otherwise, Headmistress, and what Miss Granger said is not convincing at all. Sure, accidental magic may help her to escape the cage and run away to safety, but not to go on a murderous rampage against highly dangerous wizards. She killed trained assassins, in case you're ignorant of that fact."

"Look, if she's really powerful, then there's no way she'd be hospitalized a lot, getting all those curses and what-not," Harry offered. Ginny flashed him a grateful smile.

"It might be part of her plan to look weak," Lewis said dismissively. "Is that all you can give me? No offense Miss Granger, but I was expecting more. Oh well. I'll notify St. Mungo's for a prisoner transfer."

"She's hosting a powerful demon," Andromeda said loudly, causing all heads to turn to her. "I went to the Lair yesterday and had a chat with the portraits."

Ginny frowned. "What do you mean?"

Andromeda sighed. "Do you recall telling me about the argument you witnessed between those portraits?"

Ginny nodded but was still confused.

"I find that conversation is odd," Andromeda fixed her eyes on the nearby clock, refusing to look at anyone in the eye. "The portraits knew that your family is labeled as 'blood traitors' and that Tristane is 'tainted'. I wondered why they did not put up a fight against her taking the leadership mantle if they know she's not a pureblood. I've been visiting my ancestral home several times since the first time you mentioned it but when I commented that they've changed and willing to let a non-pureblood to take charge, the portraits went beserk. Apparently they had no idea she's mixed blood."

Ginny glanced at Hermione, who looked equally confused. _Great,_ the redhead thought, _if Hermione is lost, there's no hope for me to understand this_.

"So is her mother a ghoul or something? I thought her mother's side is all muggles," Ron muttered.

Andromeda seemed to regret to even bring up the topic and reluctantly continued, "I went to the house again yesterday, arguing and yelling at the portraits to tell me what's going on. They finally told me that Tristane is 'tainted' by another being, that she is not fully human. As in, there's a demon within her."

"Oh!" All heads turned to look at Fleur, who looked like was just having an epiphany. "All these while my Veela instincts were telling me that she is dangerous. That makes sense."

"Are you both high on something? Tristane is harmless. She is the victim here. Andromeda, she is your niece. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" Ginny wanted to shake Andromeda so badly, wanting to make her see reason. Why did nobody think to interrogate Fawley, who was obviously the mastermind behind this mess?

"Ah, so Black is dangerous, after all," Lewis' lips curled to a smile. It looked unpleasant.

"That doesn't mean she's guilty," Draco shot him a glare.

"No, she is not guilty," agreed Andromeda. "She might have powers, but she is not guilty of whatever you're trying to charge her with."

"Lewis, may I remind you that we're here to discuss Miss Black's innocence in one particular matter," Kingsley said calmly. "There's no prisoner transfer tonight. I am ordering you to interrogate and investigate Fawley first before hounding after Miss Black, who is still unconscious and weak, and unable to run off anywhere."

"Minister, why are you taking their side?"

"I know you were not here and fight alongside us in the War," Kingsley said wearily, "but I have come to trust the judgment of the Headmistress, Miss Granger, Mister Potter, and Mister Weasley. Albus Dumbledore taught me to never judge a person without knowing their full story, and we've seen that men labeled as 'evil' such as Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Severus Snape turned out to be good people after all. Since they are standing behind Miss Black, I am willing to give them the benefit of doubt for the time being. What I'd like you to do now is to hear the story from Fawley's side first before doing anything."

Lewis gritted his teeth but obeyed. He left the room without saying a word.

"Thank you for telling us about that, Andromeda," Kingsley said quietly. "But I believe that can be easily fixed. It seems like your niece was just defending herself, no matter how gruesome the result looked like."

"Thank you, Minister," Andromeda hugged Kingsley. "We'll figure out how to deal with this."

"Wait – are you being serious, Andromeda? That Tristane is really hosting a demon?" Ginny was still trying to digest the whole thing.

Andromeda nodded sadly. Ginny shook her head.

"No, you must be mistaken," the redhead said firmly. "She's not writing a diary or interact with suspicious objects. You're mistaken. The portraits are wrong. No. I'll prove you that you are wrong!"

"Wait, Ginny!" Fleur tried to stop the redhead from fleeing the room but Ginny was athletic enough to dodge and slipped out of the room quickly.

Moments later, they heard Bill's surprised voice and the slam of the door.

"Be quiet there! My niece is resting!" Narcissa yelled out.


	32. Chapter 32

Ginny stared at the unconscious figure of Tristane Black, who looked serene and innocent. The redhead sat at the chair next to Tristane's bed, still warm from Bill's body heat. Ginny's eldest brother had given up trying to convince her to open the door (she suspected Fleur had something to do with it) and it was now quiet again at the other side of the door. Ginny felt slightly guilty that the Healers would not be able to come and go freely but the redhead trusted Fleur to smash down the door if the Healers must enter.

The eye. Ginny was tempted to reach out her hands, open that eyelid, and see the colour of the eye hidden behind it. But should she? Would she be able to handle whatever the answer was? Did she really want to see that frighteningly glowing red orb? And even if Tristane's 'blind' eye was red in colour (and glowing as well), would that be a problem? That would not mean anything, right? It would be just one of the things Ginny needed to learn more about Tristane, amongst a million other things.

But no. She had to know. She needed to know if her girlfriend was being possessed by some creature. Ginny had been there, done that, and got a t-shirt. She managed to come out intact, thanks to the Golden Trio, and was still able to keep her sanity. Surely if anything, Ginny was the best person to help Tristane handle this issue. Moreover, Hermione was next door in the private waiting room and the brilliant witch definitely could solve anything.

Ginny had her resolve. She took a deep breath, reached out her hand, and touched that eyelid she had been forever curious about but was never granted permission to see, and moved it upwards gently.

She gasped and immediately released her hand, her heart racing.

What was she thinking? Tristane was blind in one eye. There was no way it would be glowing red. It was Fawley's fault. Yeah, Fawley must have done something to cause that.

Ginny released a sigh of relief. Lewis was wrong. Well, she could not blame him – he was freaked out as well and it was his duty to ensure no threats to society. Andromeda was just misled by a bunch of ancient portraits who had been cooped up in that house for so long, devoid of normal human company. The Blacks were never known for their sanity anyway.

Ginny leaned forward and held Tristane's still cold hand in hers. The redhead noticed that she was shaking. Was she that fearful of finding out the answer? She kissed the hand gently and was shocked when the hand moved, caressing her cheek slowly.

"Tristane?"

The one-eyed witch smiled weakly and opened her eyes so very slowly.

"Hey," Tristane whispered.

"Hey to you too missy. How are you feeling? It took the Healers hours just to get you back to normal. I was so worried about you!" Ginny was fretting, tears forming in her eyes. "Don't ever do that to me again!"

Tristane grinned. "I won't, love. I'm sorry."

"I thought you'd be gone by the time I reached you, I nearly had a heart attack. With you, Hermione, and that Ferret captured, I – "

"Hermione and Draco are caught?" Tristane tried to sit up but Ginny pushed her back.

"What are you trying to do? Don't move. You're still weak. Yes, they were captured as well but they're alright. Just a couple of bruises. Nothing they can't handle. But you, on the other hand, managed to nearly destroy yourself. What the hell were you thinking, trying to fight those guys instead of running away to safety? Are you an idiot? For months we've been trying to teach you to defend yourself and run away to the nearest safe point. But no! Instead you decided to just have a go at them _without a wand_." Ginny could feel her voice rising and glared furiously at Tristane.

"Uh, I wasn't really thinking, sorry," Tristane said in a small voice, trying to shrink and disappear. Ginny inherited her mother's trait of being fearsome when angered.

"You were not thinking? What the hell is that excuse? There's too many dark spells going on attacking you, it's a miracle you're still alive. It's even crazier that you somehow managed to break free of that sphere. But instead of running away, you killed some of them, maiming the rest, and were on the process of killing that ass Fawley. And guess what? You're 'not thinking' is now bringing some stupid problems because now the Ministry wants to throw you into Azkaban and people now think you're possessed by some demon or something. Are you trying to kill me?"

Tristane's face was paler than Nearly-Headless-Nick's ghostly colour. She avoided Ginny's eyes and muttered another apology. Ginny was going to continue her tirade but felt something was odd. Tristane did not seem to be angry at the Ministry for treating her like a criminal. Unless…

"That's true, isn't it?" Ginny asked in a horrified voice. "Please tell me you're just scared of going to Azkaban, and those things are not true. Please."

Tristane refused to say anything and looked away, extracting her hand from Ginny's. The redhead slumped back dejectedly.

"This is such a mess up world, isn't it?" Ginny's voice was hollow. "I initially befriended you to gather info, then genuinely came to like you, and fell for you, but all along you're dangerous."

Tristane looked at her sharply. "I would never hurt you, Ginny," she insisted.

"Then why are you hiding something so important from me? What the hell is going on? What demon are you having? Oh wait – are you really Tristane or have I been dealing with a demon all these while?"

"It's nothing like that, you don't understand – "

"Like hell I don't! I was possessed by Voldemort when I was eleven and reopened the stupid Chamber of Secret, so I know exactly what you are going through! I've been through an unpleasant war and dealt first-hand with insane Death Eaters, including your infamous aunt, so I know how you feel! What the hell is your demon?"

Ginny did not realize she had already risen from her chair and was shouting, tears streaming freely.

"I… it's… I mean…" Tristane sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm not possessed, if that's what you're worried about."

"You're still not denying about some demons."

Tristane said nothing.

"If you won't tell me," growled Ginny, "then we are done. I'd like to believe your innocence but I can't do that unless I know what the hell is going on. I left my parents for you. I defended you from people's biased judgments. I am taking the road to hell because I want to be with you despite my parents' objections and society's intolerance. I deserve the truth."

Tristane sighed and nodded. "When my father was dying, he pressed a ring into my hands and I was instantly transported to the woods right at the edge of Malfoy Manor. A group of masked men attacked me. They were Fawley's men. It seemed that he had been tracking my family for a long time and kept watch on places related to the Blacks, including Malfoy Manor, to intercept my father and I should we ever appear. At that time, I had no idea what was going on. I was afraid, panicked, in pain, and desperate to get away. I was begging at anyone or anything to save me. But nobody came, and I was dying. Sort of. And then I remembered I was reading about a book of summoning spirits and I thought, why don't I just give it a try? I was most likely going to be dead by the end of the day anyway, so I've got nothing to lose. I know it was stupid of me to attempt summoning without proper preparation and ritual. I just recited whatever I remembered and called forth the first name that came to my mind. The next thing I know, the pain lessened greatly and I was being cared for by Narcissa.

Apparently I managed to summon a being – I don't know whether it's a demon or not, because it has been so kind to me. It called itself Muzkon. I struck a deal with him – help me to get revenge on my father."

"And what did he want in return?" Ginny whispered, afraid to hear further but at the same time wanting to get to the bottom of the issue.

"Can I have some water first?"

Ginny wordlessly helped Tristane to drink, gently raising the Slytherin's head. Tristane cringed in pain.

"My throat hurts," she grumbled. "But thanks, Gin."

"So, Muzkon. What does he want?"

"He…doesn't want anything, really." Ginny gave her a disbelieving look. Tristane added hastily, "It's true. He'd rather me not 'awaken' him from his slumber but he said he took pity on me and so decided to help me out."

"That sounds highly suspicious."

"I know," sighed Tristane, "but so far he hasn't done anything that led me to think otherwise. "

"But surely there's a catch somewhere," Ginny insisted. There was nothing free in this world, after all.

"Well, I suppose there is one," Tristane said slowly, thoughtful. "He rarely surfaces unless I am in mortal danger or whenever I ask him to surface. That's because I'm magically weak and he is a very strong magical creature. If his powers run inside me for a long time, my body will overheat and I will definitely die. So whenever I start to feel so much pain randomly, that means his powers are bubbling and I must somehow improve my magical stamina. Like exercising, I guess."

Ginny pondered for a moment. "So all these time, your actions are definitely your own? He's not controlling you at all?"

Tristane nodded.

"Including when you nearly killed Fawley?"

Tristane sighed and looked away. "Yes," she admitted, "it was me. I was really angry. I hate him. I want my revenge. If it not were for him, I'd still have my parents. At that time while in the sphere, Muzkon helped protect me from dying and he helped reduce my pain. But I gave in to my anger and the only thing that was in my mind was to kill the bastard who killed my parents. I guess I sucked Muzkon's power more than I should and the next thing I know I heard you."

Ginny sighed and sat on the chair. She placed the tip of her fingers under Tristane's chin and gently lifted it, forcing the one-eyed witch to look into her eyes.

"So let me get this straight: you don't know who or what this…Muzkon is exactly, he doesn't require anything back from you but you can die because he is strong, and you've caused havoc in the fight. Oh, and you nearly died by the way. Too much dark magic clashing with each other."

"I'm sorry."

"Tris, I don't want to lose you. I really don't. You nearly died and now Lewis is like a hound trying to put you in Azkaban because he suspects you're dangerous to let loose. He's an Unspeakeable. Those people are way scarier than Aurors, in my opinion. With Muzkon in you, there's no way he'd let you roam free even though you can barely cast spells properly. Look, I don't want to force you to do things but… I really can't lose you. Muzkon is dangerous. I don't care if he is a kind demon that doesn't want anything from you but you said so yourself: your body can't handle his powers. Tris, I… is it possible for it to leave?"

Tristane's pursed her lips.

"Fawley is caught and he'll definitely not walk out of Azkaban ever," added Ginny hurriedly before Tristane could mount an argument. "Revenge will only consume you, love. Will you at least consider it please? For me?"

Tristane sighed and nodded reluctantly. "I'll think about it. No promises."

There was a knock on the door.

"Gin, I can't hold off the Healers any longer," Fleur's voice was heard from the other side of the door. "Unlock the door please. They need to check on Tristane."

Ginny kissed Tristane's temple and said, "I'll be waiting just outside the door, yeah?" She then unlocked the door, slipped outside and went with Fleur to the waiting room, letting the Healers took over.

* * *

When Tristane woke up, she realized two things: she was getting sunburnt and that she could see clearly with both eyes. Tristane looked around and found herself on the beach, with no shades covering her from the harsh sun's bites. She frowned. Did they move her to a tropical hospital? If so, their treatment must be really good because both of her eyes were functioning perfectly.

The beach, however, was deserted. There was only a picnic basket nearby and a dark blue towel. Tristane stretched and got to her feet. Her skin was starting to feel uncomfortable. She needed to put some sunscreen on. Tristane went to the basket and rummaged around, hoping there was a sunscreen or something that would alleviate the burning.

"Looking for something?"

Tristane jumped, surprised. She did not hear any footsteps nearby. She turned around and faced a tall, thin man wearing a set of grey wizarding robes. He looked happy and peaceful. Like a wizened wizard high on drugs.

"Uh, I don't mean to be rude but who are you?"

The man chuckled. He gave her a small bow.

"How rude of me, beg my pardon miss. I am known by many names but at present I am called 'Muzkon.'"

Tristane's eyes went wide.

"What? How – "

"Please do not get upset or too excited," urged Muzkon. "Your body is still very fragile at the moment."

Tristane looked down at herself. Everything seemed to be working perfectly, including both her eyes.

"We are not at a beach, really," continued Muzkon. "We are at some parts of the deepest recesses of your mind. Your subconscious. This is the only place I can reach out to you without risking your life."

"Wait, are you telling me that I'm dreaming?"

Muzkon shook his head.

"No, this is definitely not a dream. It's difficult to explain but I can assure you that this is all real. Except the location, of course. I conjured it up, hoping that the sun will cheer you up. After all, England is freezing cold right now."

"Did you conjure my sunburn as well?"

Muzkon frowned, looking worried. He snap his fingers and a large umbrella appeared next to Tristane, giving her much-needed shade.

"My apologies, it was careless of me. I did not conjure your sunburn. I am guessing that's reflecting the state of your health – which is to say, not very good at the moment."

He conjured two beach chairs and gestured for Tristane to take a seat, which she did.

"I am guessing that this is an urgent matter?"

Muzkon nodded.

"Your health is really concerning, Tristane. I managed to deflect most of the dark magic cast on you from attacking your core, but there are still quite a few dark spells that went through. While it's thanks to me that you're still alive, I am also a threat on your life. I am drawing your strength and energy which you need to fight for your life. Now, my question is: how determined are you in getting your revenge? If you still want to avenge your father, I will remain in you and help you achieve that goal. However, you definitely will not last more than eight months. I am draining your magic and your body is too weak to cope with recuperating, containing me, as well as gaining strength for yourself."

Tristane was shocked. Eight months, and even that was the maximum?

"Lass," Muzkon said gently, "if I may offer a word of advice: revenge is pointless."

Tristane stared at him sharply.

"I am not saying to just let your father's murderer to roam free. Far from it. All I am saying is that don't let revenge be your sole purpose in life. You are but a newborn foal, still learning how to walk on your own two feet. If you insist on having your revenge, surely there are better ways to do it instead of turning to other beings such as I?"

"Why are you so helpful?" Tristane could not help asking.

Muzkon sighed. "It's a long story but in the past, thousands of years ago, when spirits walked on the earth openly alongside humans, a boy befriended me. You somehow remind me of him, the only human I ever call a friend. While I usually would demand payment in return for my services, I will not do that to you, who remind me of him. And if you do decide to let go of your revenge, as much as I will miss you and the memories of him, I will leave."

Tristane said nothing, feeling troubled deep inside.

"I'll let you have a think about it. But don't take too long – the longer you make your decision, the harder it is for your body to return to health."

Muzkon disappeared, leaving Tristane alone. She groaned. She was so close to avenge her father. She closed her eyes, remembering his smiles, his laughter, his animated way of explaining even the simplest of things. The way he always burnt the steaks, no matter how many times he had tried cooking them. Would he be disappointed in her for letting his murderers free? Well, they were not technically free, considering they Aurors caught them. Would her mother, the person she never knew, and was also killed by Fawley, be disappointed to know that her daughter could not avenge her?

Eight months. Could she achieve that within eight months? With a weakened body which would continue deteriorating, could she get away with it? Tristane knew that she would need to hide from everyone. There was no way they would allow her to continue on a destructive path.

Eight months. Would it be worth the sacrifice? Would her ancestors frown on her for letting the bloodline died out? After all, she was the last Black alive, unless Draco and Teddy changed their surnames. But did it matter? She was sure Draco would find a way to help out the Black name. Narcissa would ensure that.

Tristane took a deep breath. What about Ginny? Could she leave the redhead? Tristane was pretty sure that Ginny deserved much better than her. Ginny had a bright future ahead of her. With such a big heart, high intelligence, and positive attitude on life, Ginny would surely be able to get over her. Tristane made a mental note to herself to write up a will and include Ginny's name inside. At least that way Ginny would not be in want of anything for the rest of her life.

But what was this wretched feeling in her heart?

It was sometime before she made her decision.

* * *

Tristane opened her eyes and groaned. Right, back to being able to only see through one eye. Her whole body was in pain and she found that she could not barely breathe. Panic seized her whole body and started hyperventilating. She was barely aware of a person helping her to drink a foul-tasting vial of potion and rubbed her back.

"There, there, take a deep breath," the person said soothingly. "Listen to my breathing and follow me."

Tristane obeyed and soon she found herself able to breathe properly. She mumbled her thanks and felt herself to be laid down again. She looked up at the person, expecting to see Ginny's loving face.

"Uh…Professor?"

The wizened McGonagall looked her with a worried face.

"Are your lungs still in pain?"

Tristane shook her head.

"No offense but…uh, is Ginny alright?"

The Headmistress's lips drew a thin line and she slowly sat on the chair next to Tristane's bed.

"You are not allowed visitors," Tristane could hear anger in McGonagall's voice. "That Lewis was convinced your friends and family are trying to smuggle you out of the hospital to obstruct his investigation. He believes that you are a danger to society."

"I can't even cast offensive spells, Professor," Tristane tried to laugh it off. "Unless he really believes I am possessed?"

McGonagall's piercing stare made Tristane highly uncomfortable. She felt it was as if the Headmistress could see right into her soul.

"Ginny told me about it," Tristane said. "It's ridiculous. Surely no one would believe the words of ancient portraits that barely get any human visitors?"

When McGonagall looked unconvinced, Tristane added, "Would you believe anything Black portraits tell you, knowing that most of them are probably mad anyway?"

"You have a point there," conceded the Headmistress. "Unfortunately, Lewis is hell-bent on catching this demon of yours. He's trying to get the Minister to allow him to exorcise you and, if possible, put you in Azkaban for observations. Fortunately Kingsley is a level-headed man. Both the Minister and your team of lawyers are having a fight in my office as we speak."

Tristane thanked her aunts, Draco, Hermione, and Ginny for dragging the lawyers into this.

"As I am neither a friend nor a family, and as you are my student, I am allowed to visit you. Well, they call it 'observation'. Lewis wanted his team of Unspeakeables to monitor you initially but that idea got shot down by everyone, especially the Healers."

"Thank you, Professor."

"There's no chance I will ever let my students be thrown to the lions," smiled McGonagall kindly. "Lewis is just frightened, that's all. You remind him of his past."

"Oh?"

"He used to study in Durmstrang with his twin brother," McGonagall began. "When they were fifteen, they, with some of their friends, tried to summon demons as a joke. But things went wrong and Lewis' brother was possessed. The demon did not harm them and begged them to let it be, as it only wanted to look at the world. It promised to leave Lewis' brother's body after a month. They relented. Nothing happened during that first month. At the end of the month, the demon requested for an extension, claiming it wanted to see the world beyond their school. As it was nearing the holidays, they agreed, thinking that nothing bad would happen. But they were wrong. After the first week of being back at home, Lewis found his whole family murdered and mutilated. Lewis was the only survivor because he so happened to sneak out of the house that morning to meet a girl from the village. When he returned home, Lewis found his brother in the process of eating their mother's intestines."

Tristane felt nauseous.

"The brother, however, was gone – the demon had fully taken control over the body. Lewis ran to get help from the villagers and they managed to banish and bind the demon. I think when Lewis saw your left eye turned red, he remembered the tragedy in his past, and immediately assumed you're possessed. I, however, of the opinion that it was a mixture of both your accidental magic and whatever spells Fawley was casting, that caused your eye to be of red colour."

"I'm definitely not possessed," Tristane mumbled.

"I know that, dear," McGonagall said kindly, patting her student's arm. "Don't worry about it, I have faith in your friends that they will be able to sort this out."

The door slammed open and a wild-looking Lewis stormed in, followed by Draco, Ginny, Hermione, Narcissa, Andromeda, Kingsley, and a group of men in sleek suits whom Tristane felt she had seen them somewhere.

"What is the meaning of this? I will not let my student be taken away!" McGonagall had risen from the chair and was blocking Lewis from getting closer to Tristane.

Tristane admired the Headmistress' ferociousness and knew why people feared the wizened witch.

"You are obstructing justice," Lewis said coldly.

"Do not start a fight," Kingsley warned sharply. He stood next to Tristane and greeted her.

"Miss Black, my sincere apologies for disturbing your rest. I really do not want to do this but my hands are forced."

"Miss Black, the Ministry has agreed that if you are proven not possessed, they will drop their charges on you, issue a public apology, and sends this particular agent for retraining," one of the men in suits calmly said. Tristane then remembered where she had seen him – he was one of her lawyers. What was his name? Jones? Johns?

"This is ridiculous! What happened to innocent until proven guilty? She is clearly the victim here! Go and bother Fawley instead, he is the bad guy," Ginny protested, giving Tristane an anxious look.

"Weasley, I did go into Fawley's memories and there's no way his spells caused her to suddenly have inhuman strengths," Lewis gave an unpleasant smile.

"I am not possessed," Tristane said indignantly. "You're an idiot to believe those crazy portraits. Even I won't bother listening to their chatter."

"Well, this can be settled in a matter of minutes," Lewis took out glowing purple orb from his robes. "This beauty here can detect whether you are hosting a demon."

"You can't just accuse people anyhow you like," Ginny desperately tried to grab Lewis but was held back by Hermione and Draco.

"Gin, I'm sure it'll be alright," Hermione tried to calm the redhead. "Tristane is innocent. The sooner this is done with, the sooner Tristane can rest properly."

Tristane gave Ginny a reassuring smile. Lewis brushed off McGonagall and stood next to the Minister, giving the orb to Kingsley.

"Miss Black, this will not be painful," Kingsley assured the witch. "If you are not hosting any demon, this orb will not change colour."

Tristane nodded, bracing herself. Kingsley held her palm and let the orb touched her skin. Tristane closed her palm and held the orb tightly. The orb stayed purple.

"This is impossible! How do you do this? How do you hide your demon?"

Kingsley held back Lewis and firmly said, "You have your proof. Return to the office."

"Minister! This is impossible! She IS possessed. Maybe she did something to the orb."

"You yourself guaranteed me this orb has been working perfectly for the past five years and that this orb lasts for three decades," Kingsley said calmly. "Return. To. The. Office."

Lewis gritted his teeth and stomped out of the ward.

"My apologies, Miss Black," Kingsley said tiredly. "If only we are not in need of his expertise, I would've sacked him for trying to do this. But don't worry, he has his proof. He just needs to calm his head. And as promised, the Ministry will issue a public apology to your person. I shall leave you to rest now."

He nodded to the rest as he exited the room. Tristane's team of lawyers followed the Minister, seemingly not trusting Kingsley to not back out on his word.

Tristane gave a wry grin to the rest of the audience and was hugged fiercely by her sobbing lover.

"Gin, there's no need to cry," Tristane murmured gently.

"Thank you, Tristane, thank you," the redhead whispered in Tristane's ear.

"No Gin, thank you," Tristane murmured softly, not wanting the rest to hear their conversation. She wished they'd leave the room. "Thank you for loving me."


	33. Chapter 33

_**I can't believe it's nearing the end and I actually**_ **am _completing my first fanfic. Hopefully I have grown better in my writing and have not bore any of you reading this little fanfic of mine. Thank you so much for still reading this story, and I hope you enjoy this as much as I do writing it._**

 _ **As this chapter coincides with the 2016 Quidditch World Cup (how exciting), I would like to dedicate part of this chapter and the next one to Quidditch (big hint, everyone?)**_

 _ **Go Dropbears! Bring home the gold!**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**_

* * *

The incessant coughing shook Tristane's body, making her felt like she was an ancient grandmother. She found that she could not tolerate even the slightest chill after Muzkon disappeared. The Healer marked that down as a side effect from Fawley and Jerome's spells, but Hermione theorized that after having Muzkon for quite some time and suddenly left, Tristane was not 'whole'. But the Healers did not know of Muzkon's existence. The only people who knew the whole truth were Ginny, Hermione, and Draco. As for the rest, they assumed the portraits were just having wild imaginations, being left alone for so long in a huge mansion by themselves.

Tristane grabbed a potion on the dresser in her room (well, it was still officially Draco's but by this point nobody seemed to remember that) and downed its contents. The effects were immediate – her coughing subsided. She lay back on the bed and pulled the blankets around her. Ginny had never complained about the heat, even though Tristane noticed the redhead had been starting to sleep naked since her discharge from St. Mungo's. That made Tristane love Ginny even more. Well, both the redhead's acceptance and the lack of clothing, of course.

Tristane was held in St. Mungo's for nearly a month. During that period, Narcissa had never left the hospital, being the only one who had no other obligations. Ginny would come right after her last class of the day, staying overnight and leaving in the early mornings for her Quidditch practices. Draco and Hermione would visit daily for several hours until Hermione dragged Draco back to do their Head duties. There was once Hermione caught Blaise drinking Polyjuice and pretending to be Draco in order for Draco to stay longer with Tristane (and run away from his responsibilities), and boy, Tristane swore she would never ever do anything to piss the Golden Girl. The rest of her friends would visit during the weekends, with McGonagall's permission, and Tristane was touched when even Ron visited her.

Fawley, Jerome, and Skeeter were charged with a host of offences including multiple murders, attempted murders, and kidnappings. They were on a very public trial (Tristane's lawyers lobbied and insisted for that to show to the world that the Black Family was not evil) and were facing a lifetime of imprisonment with no possibility of parole. Tristane begrudgingly accepted the fact that there was no harsher punishment (when the Dementors were officially discharged from guard duty, Dementor's Kiss was stripped off from the official list of punishments). Fawley's grandchildren ran off to Serbia as soon as Tristane was trapped in the sphere. Harry and Lewis were sent to hunt for them but by the looks of it, they were hidden well and most likely had moved to another country by now.

A knock at the door brought Tristane out of her thoughts.

"Come in," she called out weakly. Her whole body, including even her voice was still very weak.

The door opened and Hermione entered, bringing a tray with her. She set it in front of Tristane and helped the Slytherin to sit up. Tristane's meals were now specially prepared, consisting of a mixture of potions, herbs, and various foods blended together, ending in looking like porridge. Today's porridge was in purple colour. Tristane hoped that the taste would not be as bad as usual. But so far, her hopes were always crushed. That never stopped her from hoping though.

"Uh… am I allowed to eat this?" Tristane pointed at a small plate next to the purple porridge. Usually there was only the bowl of porridge, a glass of water, and a vial of potion on her tray.

"Healer Jenkins said you are due for a treat," Hermione smiled at the excited witch. "But only after you've finished your porridge," she added when Tristane immediately reached out to the piece of chocolate cake.

Tristane groaned. But she did not make a fuss and ate her porridge as quickly as she could. Hermione hid a smirk. No arguments or protests today for a change.

Hermione sat patiently, watching Tristane eat. She smiled sadly, knowing how uncomfortable Tristane was to be left alone in a room with Hermione. Even though Tristane knew that it was Catherine Fawley that was disguised as Hermione that led to Tristane's capture, Tristane was still having some discomfort with the real Hermione. The brunette knew that Tristane was trying her best to ignore that discomfort and most likely was secretly hoping Draco or Ginny would be there as well. Or even Daphne.

Unfortunately, both Draco and Ginny were busy trying to get the whole of Hogwarts' attention to be selected for the exhibition match. Nobody knew yet which professional Quidditch team would be coming for the match, but everyone was excited for it. For the past few weeks, the four Hogwarts' Quidditch teams had been holding unofficial matches during the weekends, even to the point of ignoring going to Hogsmeade. Duels and arguments to secure the pitch for team practice had been so frequent to the point McGonagall threatened to cancel the whole event. Madam Hooch finally made a pit roster so that each time had a turn every single day. Madam Pomfrey had complained that it was her busiest year, even when Harry Potter had finally left the school.

Hermione, alongside most teachers, were unhappy with the decrease of interest in studying in the student body. However, as much as she wanted to petition to cancel the whole event so that students would return to their books, Hermione understood that this would help return students' cheerfulness and take off their collective minds from the previous war as well as Fawley's attack. So she kept her peace for the most part. She was still dragging Draco and Ginny off from their practice and would not let them go until they had done their homework. Nothing much changed in her life, it seemed.

A wave of nausea hit Tristane right after she gulped down the potion. That always happened. Ugh. The wizarding world needed to step up their game to create better-tasting potions. Hermione, who was predicting it, helped the Slytherin lay on the bed.

"I'm fine," Tristane protested weakly. "It was the potion's fault. It tasted horrible."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What is it with the Blacks and their stubbornness?"

"We are hard to kill," grinned Tristane.

Hermione just grumbled at that. She took the tray and went out the door. "Have a good rest, Tristane."

The effects of the potion were almost immediate: Tristane was already feeling drowsy.

"The only thing I do is to eat and sleep," she grumbled to nobody in particular. "I am getting fat. Ugh."

* * *

Hermione turned the pages of a dusty _Treatise on Magic in Third Century Oceania_ and scanned the paragraphs quickly. She was steadily getting frustrated at the thick book. While it held a wealth of interesting information, none of it was helpful for her current Advanced Transfiguration essay. Not that she needed a lot of things to cover – her thirty inches essay, in her small and neat handwriting, was solid proof that she had written at least twice as long the required minimum. But she just could not help herself to provide more information. It was in her nature.

She turned another page, drinking up the words and committing them to memory. This book might come in handy one day. Might was the keyword. Around her were stacks of books and scrolls she pulled out from the shelves, to aid in her revision and homework. Not that she actually needed to do any of that, mind you. She had finished her year's syllabus before the start of the school year, even.

Someone sat next to her and by the sound of it, started to eat an apple. Hermione groaned internally. The person would surely caused Madam Pince to throw both of them out of the library. She tore her eyes away from the book and glared at the person beside her.

"Want some?" a grinning Blaise offered her the bitten apple.

"No and you shouldn't eat that in the library, it'll dirty the books," she replied reproachfully. "Madam Pince will ban me from this place if she catches us."

Blaise chuckled. "My, my, Granger, you are still a crazy bookworm, even after all these while."

"I assume you are here for a purpose?"

Blaise sat straighter and rummaged around his pocket. He took out a folded piece of parchment and offered it to Hermione.

"Well, I thought I'd accompany you, seeing you're the only person aside from our princess to not bother turning up at the Quidditch pitch. Here, McGonagall asked me to pass it to you. I think it's a list of more homework specifically designed for you."

"Prat," Hermione grinned despite herself. She took the parchment and read it quickly. She frowned.

"What's wrong? Cancelled homework?"

"She wants me to see her in her office as soon as possible."

"So… more homework?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"My life does not revolve around homework, Mr. Zabini."

She started gathering her things and clearing up the table.

"Here, let me help," Blaise took a few thick and heavy books away from her. He followed her to return those books in their rightful shelves. "And yes, your life _does_ revolve around homework, Granger. I mean, you are the famous Golden Girl and a brilliant witch. You know everything already and I bet you can take the NEWTS right now instead of at the end of the month. You can just apply for a job anywhere, even without qualifications, and you're guaranteed a job. Even if you don't want to work, you can sell your story and people will buy it. Many rich wizards would die to have you as their trophy wife." Hermione glared at him. "Well, it's true! Having their names associated with you will boost their public profile. A lot of wizards are jealous of Draco right now."

"I am with Draco not for his money, Blaise. My parents are quite well-off themselves."

Blaise waved it away. "I am not insinuating otherwise and I am not trying to offend you, Granger. I am just wondering why you even bother returning to school, that's all."

"I like studying," Hermione shrugged. "And I still have no idea what I want to do after school. Yes, I am aware I could've just joined the Aurors like Harry and Ron did but it's not something that I am keen on doing."

"So what are you going to do after NEWTS?"

"Well, I might start to look for a job. Or I could go for higher learning. There are some universities out there."

Blaise laughed. He took the remaining library books from Hermione's hands, to the witch's protest. "You're crazy, Granger. But if you do go to a university, be prepared to have Draco go with you. He won't let you be alone."

He made a shooing motion at her, saying, "Now go to your appointment. Can't have McGonagall waiting for her favourite now, can we?"

Hermione smacked his arm playfully. "Thanks for that, Blaise."

Hermione walked out of the library and took a detour to McGonagall's office, avoiding the Great Hall and the students who would be there, arguing and debating the merits of the four houses' Quidditch teams as if they were in a public forum. In Hermione's opinion, it would be much better if they were discussing on something that was much more beneficial.

She rounded up the spiral staircase and gave the password to the gargoyles, which jumped aside and let her through to the Headmistress' office. McGonagall was in a deep conversation with none other than Kingsley and Lewis. Hermione frowned. What was Lewis doing back in Hogwarts? When she entered, all three of them looked at her.

"Um sorry to interrupt your discussion, Professor, I can wait outside," Hermione apologised and made way to close the door.

"Miss Granger, we were actually waiting for you," smiled McGonagall warmly. "Please, have a seat."

Hermione took the remaining chair and was grateful that she was not sitting next to Lewis.

"I am sure you are wondering why I have called you," McGonagall began. "Now, for the past year both Kingsley and I have been working hard to prevent employers from hounding you, Miss Granger. Your fame, talent, and brilliance have been making you one of the world's sought-after witches."

Hermione blushed.

"I only did what I needed to do to help Harry, Professor," she mumbled.

"Even so, that does not negate the fact that you are, in fact, an amazing witch," smiled McGonagall. "Now, I know that NEWTS is just around the corner and I have promised myself to provide you as much time as possible for your revision, considering various interruptions you have been having for the past year. However, there is one issue of urgency that the Ministry has brought up, hence your current presence in my office. Kingsley, if you would."

Hermione frowned. Had Fawley escaped Azkaban?

"Miss Granger," Kingsley's formality increased Hermione's wild imaginations and fears, "in the Department of Mysteries, there is a tradition. The Head Department is selected right from the start of the person's career, which usually means right from the moment they step off school. This tradition allows the department to focus on grooming and preparing the candidate for the eventual responsibility. The current Head Department of Mysteries, whose name I am not allowed to mention due to security, is retiring in six years' time." Hermione could see where the conversation was going and her heart was thumping. She forced herself to keep composed. "The department has been having a problem of not being able to find a suitable candidate to replace its head. I think this is where you start talking, Lewis."

"You have all the criteria and requirements that a candidate needs to be selected," Lewis said quietly. "Not only are you intelligent and resourceful, you also do not give up easily. The Department of Mysteries believes you are the one to replace our current Head, Miss Granger."

"Surely there are others who are smarter than me?"

Lewis gave her a wry grin. "I am one of them. However, there's one thing I lack – I cannot let go of my prejudices. You, on the other hand, can. I was blinded by my past and nearly destroy your friend's future. Yet you, who have suffered at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange and were enemies with Mister Malfoy, are able to not let your bad experiences cloud your judgment and willing to be on good terms with both Mister Malfoy and Miss Black. I am unsuitable to lead the department because of that. Do you know what we Unspeakables really do, Miss Granger?"

Hermione shook her head. While she, in one of her adventures with Harry and Ron, did break into the Department of Mysteries and saw a lot of weird things there, she did not really know what they actually did.

"Basically, we unravel mysteries. Any and all mysteries. We are some sort of truth-seekers, if you would. Mysteries cannot be unraveled if one's mind is clouded. Answers can only be gotten if one has an open mind and ready to accept any possibility, regardless of its absurdity. Because we work to find the truth, any cloud, no matter how small and insignificant, will distort that truth that we find. You are the right candidate for the job, Miss Granger."

Hermione felt overwhelmed. "But…to be a department head in just six years?" Not only a department head, but one of the most prestigious departments in the Ministry!

Lewis chuckled. "No, Miss Granger. That's only the date for the current head's retirement. The reason why this is an urgent matter which makes Professor McGonagall relents and allows us to try to court you is that the due date for university application is in two weeks' time."

Now Hermione was confused.

"To train you for the post, you will be sent to one of the five wizarding universities in our list. Every long break, you will be working alongside our current head, learning whatever you need to learn. Once you've graduated, you'll be working as an Unspeakeable for five years, working closely with the head and, once the current head retires, with the interim head department. After that, you'll officially take over the post."

"University?" How did they know that was one of her plans?

"Yes, Miss Granger, I'm afraid that's a prerequisite."

"No, you must've misunderstood me. I love studying. Going to university is one of my plans," she admitted.

Lewis smiled broadly. "Then I believe an all-expense paid university course with a promise of becoming the head department is enticing?"

Hermione blushed.

"Stop teasing her, Lewis," Kingsley chuckled. "Miss Granger, as time is not a friend, you must make your decision today. If you accept this offer, we will send you a list of the universities that we have selected as well as a list of the possible courses for you to take. I'm afraid we can only give you five days to think of those decisions. Once that's done, we will prepare the rest of the paperwork and documents."

Hermione was feeling overwhelmed. This was so sudden and unexpected.

"Hermione, even if later on you don't want to take the post, you are allowed to leave," Kingsley said kindly, noticing the distress on her face. "You only need to work for the department for five years after graduation. Although we do hope you will take over as the department head."

Hermione looked at McGonagall, searching for clues that might show her which direction she should take. But the Headmistress only smiled at her gently, seeming to encourage her to take whichever path she herself preferred to take. Hermione took a deep breath. She wanted a peaceful and quiet life after the war was over. She had imagined living as maybe an unknown researcher in a secluded part of the world with Draco, taking her time to appreciate the world around her. But something tugged at her heart. Had the years of getting dragged into various life-threatening situations with Harry and Ron finally grew on her and making her thirst for adventures?

Well, there was one way to find out.

"I accept, Minister," she decided. "I accept the offer."

Kingsley and Lewis grinned happily.

"Welcome onboard, Miss Granger. I'm looking forward to the future," Lewis shook her hand.

Future. That sounds nice.

* * *

Draco and Ginny supported Tristane as they made their way to the Slytherin table. In front of them, Hermione and Blaise were threatening and ordering students to give them space to maneuver.

"You should be in bed resting," Ginny grumbled.

"I don't want to miss this for the world, love," Tristane said weakly, concentrating on moving her body.

Exams had just finished for the whole school an hour ago and the student body were preparing themselves for the most anticipated event of the year: Hogwarts Quidditch Team Selection. Tristane had insisted on going to the Great Hall like everybody else and cast her vote. Knowing that the Slytherin would most likely sneak out of the room if she was not allowed to come, they reluctantly brought her along.

The Great Hall was packed, and even all the professors were there. It never ceased to amaze Hermione how crazy the whole school was over a sport. And, in turn, it never ceased to amaze the student body how unbelievably uninterested Hermione was toward Quidditch.

Somehow, Hermione and Blaise managed to navigate their small group toward the Slytherin table. There, Pansy and Nott had been waiting for them, saving them seats. While Ginny and Draco fussed over Tristane, Hermione looked around the hall.

In front of the staff's table, there was one large silver vase, propped on a small table. Two metres away to its side were four makeshift booths. Professors Flitwick and Fleur seemed to be standing guard for the booths. Hermione rolled her eyes. She could guess what was happening. She sat next to Draco and was met with an intense Quidditch debate. She groaned. Not this again. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed Professor McGonagall stood and called for attention. Within moments, the Great Hall was silent.

"Students, congratulations on finishing your examinations. Another school year is ending, but as I am sure you are all aware of, there is one final upcoming event for this school year."

She looked around the silent hall, a sea of excited faces eagerly awaiting her next words.

"In ten days' time, a Quidditch team consisting of professional players from various countries will come to Hogwarts to play against a Hogwarts team consisting of players from all four houses."

Murmurs broke out. Draco turned to Ginny and whispered excitedly, "Professional players from many countries! I thought it'll only be some random England team!"

Ginny gripped Tristane's arm, repeatedly saying, "Oh god, oh god, oh god."

"If she doesn't scream that in bed, you have my sympathies," Blaise told Tristane from across the table.

Ginny kicked his shin.

"Silence!" the Great Hall turned quiet again and all eyes on the Headmistress. "Tonight, we are gathered here to select a team to represent us in the exhibition match. Professor Delacour, if you would please explain the rules."

Fleur nodded in acknowledgment and stepped in front of the silver vase.

"As you can see, behind Professor Flitwick are six booths," she started clearly, her melodious voice sure to command everybody's attention. "There are parchments and quills in the booths, specially enchanted for the vote count. Each student from each table will go to a booth, write down a name for each seven positions, fold the parchment, and put it in this vase. Students may abstain from voting, but each student can only cast one vote. Anyone found breaching the rules will be severely punished and we _will_ find you."

She stared hard at each student in the hall, driving her message across.

"I would advise each one of you to think carefully and make your decisions free from house-bias," she continued, "as three of the confirmed professional players are Viktor Krum, Gwenog Jones, and Oliver Wood."

Ginny's grip tightened, making Tristane cringed in pain.

"For the past year our four house teams have shown you their abilities and talents," Fleur raised her voice above the excited murmurs. "Think of a Hogwarts team that will play well with each other and bring us victory. Once you are ready to make your decision, come to the booth and cast your vote."

Fleur returned to her guard post and the Great Hall broke into another debate and argument.

"You've decided?" Tristane asked Blaise, who stood and was heading toward the booth.

"It's as clear as day," he winked.

The students cast each of their votes one by one, with the vase swallowing each parchment and counting the tally. Tristane voted as well, with Andromeda helping her to the booth and the vase, as no other students were allowed to prevent influencing the Slytherin's decision.

"I feel like I've participated in something solemn and great," Tristane confided in Hermione who giggled at that comment.

When the last student to cast the vote, Neville, placed his parchment in the vase, a glowing yellow light encapsulated the vase. The counting had begin, it seemed. Around the hall, everybody waited with bated breath, staring at the vase as if mesmerised. After what seemed to be hours, the glowing light disappeared and a folded parchment hovered above the vase. Fleur took it and passed it to the Headmistress, who opened and read it.

"Students, it seems that we have ourselves a Hogwarts team," McGonagall said. "I shall now read you the names of the ten selected students to represent us."

The Great Hall was so silent that a single dropped pin would make a loud sound.

Hermione could feel Draco's palm getting sweaty in her hand, and she felt nervous despite herself. She could hear Ginny muttering some sort of prayers.

"Keepers: Dominic Flavius and Jordan Weiss."

Cheers erupted at the Ravenclaw table, while both Draco and Ginny groaned simultaneously.

"Seekers: Draco Malfoy and Mallory Higgins."

Draco yelled and hugged Hermione tightly, overjoyed. He then hugged Tristane, only to be separated by Hermione and Ginny.

"Are you trying to kill her, idiot?" Ginny looked murderous.

"I'm sorry Tristane, wasn't meaning to hurt you," he panicked, checking Tristane for injuries.

"I'm fine," Tristane grumbled. "I'm fine. But congrats, Drake."

"… and as for Chasers," Ginny shushed the table, "… and Ginevra Weasley."

Ginny punched the air, yelled, and kissed Tristane.

"Hey! Are you trying to kill her?" it was Draco's turn to look murderous.

Tristane laughed. "I am fine, both you. Stop it. And congratulations!"

"Congratulations to those selected," McGonagall's voice could be heard above the student madness. "For the next ten days, the Quidditch pitch is only available to the Hogwarts team. Anyone found to be trying to sabotage the team for whatever reason will face two months punishment with me personally."

The hall was deathly silent again. The Headmistress looked at each selected team member and then smiled.

"Win this for us."


	34. Chapter 34

**_So it is finally the end. I hope you've enjoyed reading this little story of mine as much as I've enjoyed writing it._**

 ** _Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling._**

* * *

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked in happiness and jumped at her best friend, hugging him to death.

The Boy Who Lived laughed, hugging her back and twirling her.

"Long time no see, 'Mione," he grinned. "I managed to get a couple of days off for this."

Hermione released her grip and hugged Ron, who pouted. Harry sat next to Tristane and greeted the Slytherin.

"How are you feeling, Tristane?"

"I am getting better, Harry. I am now allowed to eat more 'real' food and I can wear fewer layers of clothes," she grinned back at him.

"I don't think distracting my sister is a good idea at the moment," George commented from behind them.

"As much as that is tempting, I still want us to win," laughed Tristane.

They were at the Quidditch stands, waiting for the match to start. The exhibition match had attracted a lot of interest in the community, prompting Hogwarts to add emergency benches to the stands and sell a ticket to non-Hogwarts students for two Galleons apiece. The money raised will be used to upgrade the stadium as well as contributing to the funds to help the economically disadvantaged students. Tickets were sold out despite its steep price. There were even a group of journalists and scouts from different teams, making the atmosphere felt like it was a match between two professional teams.

"Look, there's even a scout from Chudley Cannons," Ron nudged both Harry and Hermione, pointing at the scout's direction. "D'you think they'll be interested in Ginny?"

His face turned as red as his hair when his brothers laughed from the row behind them.

"Oh Ronald, it'd be a shame if Ginny joins them!" Charlie guffawed. "She's better off joining the Ministry than playing for the Cannons."

"They're not that bad!" Ron tried to defend his favourite team.

"I don't play Quidditch yet I do understand that the Cannons are horribly bad," Percy commented, drawing sniggers from all sides. "They used to be glorious, but at the present time their performance is highly lacking."

Ron turned toward Tristane, who was chuckling. "How much do you love my sister?"

Tristane was unprepared for the deathly glare Ron was giving her.

"Ron," Hermione warned.

"If you love my sister enough, will you create a new Quidditch team? I can't bear the thoughts of her joining the Tutshill Tornados," he looked stressed out about the possibility.

Hermione and Harry rolled their eyes.

"Uh sure," Tristane did not know how to reply to that.

"Tristane, my man, if you actually do that, I can introduce you to a couple of people to manage your team," George offered, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Stop harassing her, you guys," Hermione chided. "We're here to enjoy the match."

"Miraculously, we are still alive today," a melancholic voice boomed from the speakers. "Despite our dark futures, we still trudge on, braving the winds of change and the wintry chills of adolescence. Look at these brave souls, still clinging on to the light that shines their lives."

"Give a round of applause to the Quidditch Professional Team," McGonagall's voice interrupted the speaker as the said team entered the pitch, led by Gwenog Jones.

"Who in Merlin's beardy name was that?" Ron wondered aloud.

"Ashley Cole, Fifty Year Hufflepuff," Hermione informed him.

"Wait – is that Cole the Mopey Forecaster?" George asked, disbelief in his eyes.

"Don't call her that," Hermione chided reproachfully. "But yes, that's the one."

George howled with laughter.

"…and Viktor Krum, the legendary Bulgarian Seeker," a dreamy voice now took over the speakers. "He still looks as grumpy as ever but he is actually a nice person. If he is not, I don't think Hermione would be willing to go to the Yule Ball with him."

Hermione buried her face in her hands.

"I wonder whether he will be unfriendly towards Draco," the dreamy voice added thoughtfully.

"I am going to kill Luna," Hermione muttered.

"Let me get this straight: the commentators are Luna Lovegood and Ashley Cole, and McGonagall's trying to control them?" tears were streaming down George's eyes. "How is this even possible? Has McGonagall lost her marbles?"

"There was a petition by the student body to allow Luna and Cole to commentate," Hermione explained, unwilling to look at anyone in their eyes. Her face was still red. "Professor McGonagall thought that since the school loves them, she should allow it. It's beginning to look like a mistake."

"They're brilliant, 'Mione!" Ron exclaimed, finding the whole situation funny. "This is not a mistake."

The whistle sounded, signaling the start of the match. Figures rose to the air at break-necking speed, making it hard to see with the naked eye.

"Dammit, I only have one eye," moaned Tristane, not being able to follow the movements easily.

Harry offered her his Omnioculars and said, "I have one to spare."

"Where did you get them?" Hermione took an extra from Ron.

"We brought some," George answered. "When world-class players are involved, we have to be prepared. I've got Lee to sell them around at twice the price. Be thankful that we love you both. GO FOR IT GIN ah shucks bloody keeper."

The crowd groaned when the Professional's Keeper, Oliver Wood, caught the Quaffle.

"It's a good throw, Gin, don't worry about it. There's plenty of chances later," Luna encouraged over the speakers.

"Where are you, Tristane Black? Hogwarts needs your help. Cheer loudly so that your lover will find her way," Cole said.

It was Tristane's turn to bury her head in her hands.

"You kill Luna, I'll take on Cole, Hermione," the one-eyed witch muttered in embarrassment.

"TEN ONE TO THE PROFESSIONALS," McGonagall announced.

"Everyone can see it, Professor. I don't understand why you always have to state the obvious," Cole sounded puzzled.

"I think McGonagall will murder her for you, Tris," Bill chuckled.

"Sometimes people are not able to see what's right in front of their eyes, Ashley," Luna said wisely.

"I'll bring a million flowers to their funerals," Harry managed to sputter out between his laughs.

"TWENTY NIL TO THE PROFESSIONALS," McGonagall announced again, a hint of despair in her voice.

"But in all seriousness, I am surprised that the Hogwarts team managed to get seven Firebolts," Harry commented.

"They're Firebolt Lightning," Tristane corrected. When Harry and Ron looked at her in disbelief, she added, "Constellation Industries decided to sponsor the Hogwarts team for this match by providing Firebolt Lightning to the whole team and other equipments."

"Whoa! That's very generous of them," Charlie remarked. "KILL THAT BEATER, GIN – sorry Tristane. Do continue. Who's Constellation Industries?"

The crowd groaned. Valmai Morgan of the Professionals scored again.

"Draco and Me," Tristane blushed. "I mean, the Malfoys and the Blacks. We recently bought out patents and the company that produced the whole Firebolt line, so we thought this match is a good and cheap place to advertise out latest products."

Ron stared at her. "You what? Hey, can I get a Firebolt Lightning for Christmas?"

Hermione elbowed him. "Behave, Ronald."

"BEHIND YOU GIN," the whole group screamed as Gwenog Jones hit a Bludger to Ginny.

Draco was in time to pull Ginny to the side, and the Bludger zoomed past them harmlessly.

"See? I told you love conquers all," Cole commented. "Without love, Malfoy wouldn't have saved Weasley. It's all because of your love, Hermione Granger and Tristane Black."

"Ugh, the thoughts of the git becoming my cousin in law," Ron made a retching sound. "No offense, Tristane."

"The Weasleys and the Blacks are distantly related, you know," Hermione said reproachfully.

"FOUR NIL TO THE PROFESSIONALS," McGonagall announced again. Yoshihiro Suzuki scored.

"Hey, Ferret has spotted the Snitch," Ron breathed.

Draco had, indeed, spotted the Snitch. He was urging his broom to increase its speed, flying towards the Snitch that was hovering at the outer edge of the pitch. Viktor Krum, who was dodging a Bludger at the other edge of the pitch, could only stare helplessly. But just as Draco was mere inches from the Snitch, a Bludger appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and he had to fly in the other direction to dodge it.

The crowd collectively groaned.

"Jones is really good," Charlie muttered. "Come on, Gin, that's just – YEAH!"

Ginny managed to score the first goal for Hogwarts, to everybody's cheers, drowning whatever comments the commentators made. Tristane yelled and clapped wildly, overjoyed.

But their happiness was short lived. Wilda Griffiths soon scored another three goals in a row for the Professionals.

"At this rate, Ferret is the only hope we have," Ron grumbled. "Can you imagine, the whole Hogwarts worship him as a hero for a week? Ugh."

"Be nice, Ron," Hermione chided. She glanced at Tristane, hoping the witch would not take offense. But Tristane was not paying attention at all.

Her eye was glued to Ginny, who had just received a pass from her fellow Chaser, Daphne, and was speeding toward the goal posts. The redhead dodged and avoided the opposite team's Chasers and was close enough to attempt scoring. Unfortunately, Wood was in the way but the Quaffle was still in Ginny's hand when he tried to cut her off. She swung her broom, making a 360-degree turn, managing to escape Wood's grasps and scored.

The stadium erupted in cheers, yelling Ginny's name. Tristane added to the noise, screaming herself hoarse.

"Go, Gin! That's my sister," Ron told the spectators next to him, chest puffing with pride.

"They know, Ron. They're Ginny's classmates," Hermione hissed.

That goal seemed to spur Hogwarts onward and between Ginny and Daphne, they scored five goals consecutively afterward. But the Professionals did not give up – the picked up pace and Hogwarts found themselves under intense pressure.

"What the hell are you doing, Ferret? Go catch the Snitch," Ron yelled in frustration. Krum was blocking Draco's advances. "No, don't catch the Snitch. Strike that. Catch the Snitch!"

"Make up your mind, little brother," Charlie chuckled. "What do you want exactly?"

"I want Hogwarts to win but I don't want Ferret to be the hero," Ron moaned.

Both Hermione and Tristane gave him deathly glares. Ron was too preoccupied with his Omniocculars to realise he just managed to anger two ladies.

Draco did a feint and managed to break free from Krum and zoomed toward the bottom left stands. He did not show any inclination of slowing down, causing panic at the stands. Close behind him was Krum, eyes full of murderous intent. Spectators clambered away from the stands, avoiding the eventual crash. Most were lucky but a few were caught in the collision, tangled with both Seekers. A bloodied Draco stood unsteadily and raised his fist. The Golden Snitch was held in his grip.

The stadium erupted in jubilation and as one, students ran forward and carried him on their shoulders, chanting his name.

Hermione, Harry, and the Weasleys helped to carry Tristane toward the heroes of the day, fighting their way through the throng of spectators. For some reason, the rest of the Hogwarts team members were still up in the air, having an intense discussion with the Professionals. The crowd, realizing this, quieted down and looked at them. Somebody gave Draco his broom and he joined the rest of the team in the sky, the Snitch still in his fist.

"Dear spectators, the show is not over yet," Luna's dreamy voice called out to the crowd, who started murmuring with questions.

At the commentators' box, a hand holding a microphone went out of the windows. Ginny flew to the box, took the proffered microphone, and returned to the team.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please bear with us for a second," the redhead spoke clearly over the speakers.

She glanced at Draco who nodded. They flew to where Tristane and the group were, hovering at their eye level. Both Quidditch teams followed, stopping at a distance.

"It has been an eventful year," Ginny began, looking at Tristane. "I was expecting a nice and quiet life after the war but the word 'quiet' does not exist in Hogwarts." The crowd chuckled. "I made some new friends, learned new things, and had adventures." She passed the microphone to Draco.

"Formal education for us Seventh Years has ended," Draco said, looking at Hermione. "Except for an exceptional witch that we all know and love, of course." Hermione blushed. The news of her continuing to a university had spread. "Some of us are already applying for work; others want to travel the world first. But as for Ginny and I, we have decided on something special for our future." He gave the microphone to Blaise who had appeared out of nowhere, and disappeared immediately into the crowd with the microphone.

"This year, we each found a special person," both Ginny and Draco said in unison, as if they had been rehearsing for a million times. "Our lives have never felt this complete before. The way you smile, the way you laugh, the way you listen to our hopes and fears… You are both special and wonderful. You are angels sent by the heavens into our lives. No words can adequately express how much you mean to each of us."

"Tristane Black," Ginny said, dismounting from her broom.

"Hermione Granger," Draco said, dismounting from his broom.

As both of them knelt in front of Hermione and Tristane, producing a ring each from their pockets, they said, "will you marry me and join me in a lifetime of adventures?"

Behind them, the Quidditch players had dismounted too, kneeling next to each other, making a long line. Those in the middle were holding out cards that spelt 'SAY YES!' while the rest were holding a bouquet of roses each.

Hermione and Tristane were stunned – this was totally unexpected. The whole week both Quidditch players were very busy training for the exhibition match, never indicating their minds were not wholly occupied with the sport.

"Yes," they both managed in unison, tears rolling down their eyes.

The crowd cheered as the couples kissed.

"Love doth conquer all," the sage voices of Luna and Cole spoke over the speakers.

* * *

 **EPILOGUE**

"As much as I love them, they do make me feel crazy," Tristane muttered.

Ginny laughed and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"That's what grandchildren are for, sweetie," joked the redhead.

Tristane did not reply, resting her chin atop Ginny's head instead.

The two witches were lying on a picnic blanket in a secluded area of the large garden, hiding from everybody else. Their Christmas Mansion was packed with friends and family who sought to escape from England's wintry chill. Fifteen years ago Tristane wanted to celebrate Christmas in a less chilly environment and so she and Ginny decided to buy a large piece of land in the Hunter Valley area in Australia, building their holiday home and hid it from muggles' eyes. After their first Christmas in that home, a tradition was born where their closest friends with their families would spend a few nights there to celebrate Christmas with them. Barbequing out in the sun was far more enjoyable than being cooped up in the house, away from the freezing winds outside.

After graduating, the two couplings of Ginny and Tristane as well as Hermione and Draco held a marriage celebration together. While all of Ginny's brothers attended, her parents refused to even acknowledge of their daughter's existence, which broke Ginny's heart. Due to both parties' stubbornness and unwillingness to cave, Ginny and her parents lost contact, even would not nod to each other if they so happened to pass each other in the streets. Unsurprisingly, Ginny dropped her name and took Tristane's.

Ginny went on to become a professional Quidditch player, joining the Holyhead Harpies. Gwenog Jones was so impressed with her performance during the exhibition match that she offered Ginny a spot in the team there and then, instead of offering her a trial. Ginny accepted. Tristane on the other hand, focused on growing her businesses, specializing in Quidditch equipments with the thoughts of Ginny's safety at the forefront of her mind. Needless to say, the Blacks grew richer.

Four years after their marriage, they adopted a pair of twin boys from Wales. Three years later, Hermione gave birth to her first daughter. While the Blacks did not adopt anymore after the twins, Draco and Hermione had four children in total, which surprised everybody. The Malfoys were known to traditionally only have one child each generation.

Hermione did end up becoming the Head Department of Mysteries, with her husband Draco becoming the department's largest donor annually. His only condition: to allow him to accompany his wife for overseas trips. Harry joked that Hermione did not marry a husband but married a muggle postage stamp. Draco never quite understood the joke.

After Ginny's retirement, she and Tristane travelled the world, often spending their time just lazing around in their hotels and had intense lovemaking sessions. They were highly skilled in casting the Muffliato and Door Locking charms, especially since after their teenage sons accidentally walked into the kitchen with both mothers naked, on the kitchen bench, in a very compromising position.

The light breeze was making Tristane sleepy and she could feel Ginny's breathing slowed. It was peaceful out there, as if time did not move at all. Hermione's yelling could be heard from the distance, making Tristane chuckled.

"Who do you think it is, Gin? I bet it's Ophelia," Tristane guessed, referring to their only granddaughter who seemed to have learned George's mischievousness and swore to practice them in her ever y day life. Ophelia tended to tease her older brother to the point of him crying and sulking, and she'd increase her teasing whenever Hermione was around. Ron theorized Ophelia felt like she had something to prove to the Golden Girl.

Ginny did not answer. Tristane chuckled and kissed Ginny's temple lightly. As they aged, it did not take much to make Ginny fall asleep. Tristane, on the other hand, required a long time to reach Slumber Land. Tristane looked at Ginny lovingly, tracing the redhead's face. Both of them were fortunate to age with grace, with lines and wrinkles only obviously visible if one were to stand right in front of their faces. Tristane kissed Ginny's lips lightly and rested her chin on the redhead's head, an arm around her protectively.

"I wonder if Luna can make it this year," Tristane mused to herself. Luna had surprised everyone when she tied the knot with none other than Blaise. For the past two Christmases, Luna had been dragging Blaise on mad adventures hunting for some mythical creature or other. This year Luna might be keener on joining the Christmas party after Tristane fed her some stories of sighting of the mythical Dropbears.

"Gin, love, I think we should head back before Hermione sends Ophelia and Marcus to harass us," Tristane nudged at Ginny gently, referring to George's notoriously impish grandson. Whenever Ophelia and Marcus met each other, the world tended to turn upside down. Hogwarts would most likely kick the both of them out of school when they were old enough for formal education.

"Gin, come on. Wakey wakey, darling," Tristane said again, this time shaking Ginny's shoulder gently.

When Ginny still did not respond, Tristane got worried. She looked at her lover's face with worry and checked the redhead's temple. It was not hot. No fever. Tristane checked Ginny's breathing, which was very faint. No, it was not very faint. It was… there was none at all. Fear gripped Tristane's heart. Shaking, she checked for a pulse. There was none.

A single tear slid down Tristane's eye. She hugged Ginny's limp body and sobbed. She clung onto the body, not wanting to accept that her lover had entered the final rest.

"Gin," she called out amidst her tears, "Ginny…"

Tristane wiped her tears and studied Ginny's peaceful face. The one-eyed witch kissed Ginny's lips gently and put the redhead's head on her shoulder, cuddling her limp body. Tristane stared at the clear blue sky, light breeze still playing with her hair gently.

"Gin, do you remember the first time we finally kissed?" Tristane asked softly. "I was the happiest girl on earth that day. I was so happy, and at the same time I was so confused too. You had been invading my thoughts and dreams and when you finally confessed your feelings to me, I nearly died with joy."

Tristane rubbed Ginny's back gently, knowing how much the redhead loved it.

"You know, that day at the hospital, I nearly chose Muzkon," admitted Tristane. "I wanted Fawley to feel all the hurt and pain I felt. But I knew if I did that, I would see you cry. And I don't want to make you cry. The only thing I want is to make you happy. And now…" her voice broke. She took a deep breath. "And now, as sad as I am, I am glad you're the first to go. Then I know I'm not making you cry. It's alright if I am the one crying for you, as long as you are happy and smiling."

Tristane tipped Ginny's head and kissed the redhead's lips one last time. The one-eyed witch's heart ached. It hurt so bad.

"I love you, Ginevra Black," Tristane said, crying.

 _The stars were spread all over the vast sky, glowing gently, reminding Tristane of mini candlelight adorning Hogwarts' Great Hall. She and Ginny were leaning against a boulder in one of the Blacks' holiday homes, enjoying the night sky._

 _"Gin," Tristane broke the silence, "did you know that nearly all of the Blacks were named after a star? Aside from Aunt Cissa, I think I'm another Black who's not named after a star."_

 _Ginny took Tristane's hand and made circular motions lazily. The redhead looked at her wife's forlorn expression._

 _"Are you bothered by it?" Tristane's face reddened from Ginny's question and looked away._

 _"No, just wondering," the one-eyed witch mumbled._

 _Ginny chuckled and gently turned Tristane's face with her hand, making the one-eyed witch looked at the redhead in the eye._

 _"I am glad you're not named after a star," Ginny kissed Tristane's jaw softly, "I'd hate to share you with anyone else. You're_ my _star."_

Tristane found it hard to breathe. Her lungs were on fire.

 _Tristane wept softly in the corner of their room, the newspaper crumpled in her hands. Ginny sat next to the one-eyed witch and gathered her in the redhead's arms._

 _"He is finally dead," Tristane felt a mixture of relief, anger, hatred, and a terrible loneliness. "I haven't exact vengeance on him and he is dead."_

 _"It's alright, love, it's alright," the redhead murmured repeatedly._

 _"I... what would my father say?"_

 _"I'm sure your father is glad you're not throwing your life away just because of Fawley," Ginny wiped Tristane's tears. "It's alright, Tris."_

 _Tristane gripped Ginny tightly, fear suddenly filled her being._

 _"Don't leave me," she sounded desperate, terrified._

 _"I won't, love, I'll always be by your side."_

Tears rolled down Tristane's eye. She looked at her wife's limp body, fear filling her being. The realisation that Ginny was no more and would never come back hit her. This was really real.

Her head was pounding. She could barely breathe. And what was this unbearable pain in her chest? And... who was calling her?

With great effort, Tristane turned around and was faced with a grinning Ginny. The redhead's hands were extended toward her.

"Why are you so slow?" the redhead's eyes were laughing, dancing with mischief. "Come on woman, let's get going."

Tristane stared at the figure in disbelief. "Ginny?"

"Glad you remember my name," Ginny tugged at Tristane's hands. "Come on."

Tristane looked at the limp figure next to her and then at the waiting Ginny. Her headache was becoming worse. What in the world... but Ginny's smiling face enchanted her, like how the redhead had been enchanting her heart all these time. With great difficulty, Tristane grabbed Ginny's hands and the redhead pulled her wife up. Tristane glanced down and was shocked to see two limp figures. The one-eyed witch realised she now felt no pain. She looked at the smiling Ginny, love shining from the redhead's eyes.

There were a million questions running through Tristane's head, and a million other things Tristane would like to tell her wife. The one-eyed witch opened her mouth, trying to voice out her questions, but instead said "Thank you for loving me." Ginny laughed, kissed her, and dragged her away to an adventure.

An hour later, when Harry sent Ophelia and Marcus to drag the two grandmothers back, the pair of mischief-makers found the pair of lovers in each others' arms, looking peaceful and serene.


End file.
